


Spooky Ghosts

by spicyboyfriend



Category: SF9 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Red String of Fate, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 21:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13152066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicyboyfriend/pseuds/spicyboyfriend
Summary: As Taeyang approached the bus stop, he tugged his phone from his pocket, a message from Seokwoo catching his attention. Typing with one hand was a feat in and of itself, but typing with one hand, with a bowl of soup in the other, while it was raining?Wow, look at you go, Yoo Taeyang, practically a natural born multitasker—“Oof!”“Shit.”





	Spooky Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jinhoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinhoes/gifts).



> I FINISHED BEFORE CHRISTMAS ENDED WOW jesus christ im so sorry this is so long @ chase but yeah im not gonna type anything super long here except it hasn't been edited at all (like... not even a little), and the ending is rushed, i am so sorry i will write u smth better someday.
> 
> also here's a [playlist!](https://open.spotify.com/user/sadmaachine/playlist/0O8D3iTuJyO00GnD7o2Rvw)

“I had a dream last night,” Taeyang had started, catching his friend, Seokwoo, off guard. Seokwoo, who was leaning down to take a bite of his food, stopped and furrowed his brows at Taeyang.

“Uh.” Seokwoo quirked a brow. “Interesting?”

“It was weird. I woke up all out of breath and anxious.”

“Was it a scary dream?” Seokwoo said after biting into his burger and chewing through the mouthful. Taeyang grimaced and held his hand up to Seokwoo’s mouth to cover the half-chewed mess of food.

“No, it wasn’t scary. It was....” Taeyang furrowed his brows and sat back in his seat, staring at the ceiling instead. “It was weird.”

“You mentioned that. Spill what happened in it, already,” Seokwoo said, glancing at his phone. “Lunch is almost over.”

_ “Your  _ lunch is almost over,” Taeyang remarked.

“Well, yeah. Maybe if you weren’t so picky about where we get our burgers from, I’d have more time to sit here and listen to your distressing dream,” Seokwoo said. 

“Don’t even pretend you don’t like the burgers,” Taeyang shot back. “Anyways, before you so rudely insulted my taste in burgers, I was going to say, the dream was... cute? I guess?” Taeyang huffed out a small breath, the action making his bangs move slightly. God, he needed a haircut. “I mean, I was sitting on the floor, somewhere.”

“Exciting,” Seokwoo chimed in.

“And someone was holding my hand.” Taeyang paused to turn his hand over. “Well, I guess I was holding their hand, too. We were holding hands. The two of us. And they had this red string around their pinky finger. It went to my pinky finger.”

“Hm,” Seokwoo said through another mouthful of food.

“You know what was really weird, was that I could smell the room. It smelled like cigarettes. It was so weird. It was like I was actually there.”

Seokwoo hummed. “Sometimes dreams really are just that vivid.”

Taeyang nodded, trying to make sense of it himself for the second time that day. Eventually, he shrugged it off, much like Seokwoo did, as he horked down the last of his burger and fries, and thanked Taeyang for the lunch together, before running off for his sociology class across campus.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Yoo Taeyang didn’t consider himself anything amazing in particular, but he didn’t think he was boring either. He looked pretty normal, he thought, with black hair, 5’9” (181 centimeters) of pretty lean limbs and a generally slim body, besides the dreaded freshman 15 weight that seemed to follow him well into his sophomore year. Taeyang once dyed his hair dark blue, but he quickly washed it out when his mother nearly had a heart attack from a picture Seokwoo shared on Facebook alone.

Seokwoo said the same thing to him sometimes— that they were both so ordinary. Seokwoo himself was involved in theatre, his involvement in the plays enough to warrant him the friendship of Jaeyoon, one of the acting alumni at their quaint university. Jaeyoon always joked around that they might not have had any of the best sports teams in the country, but at least they had him. Jaeyoon was funny, and he was really amazing at what he did.

But it always left a bad taste in the back of Taeyang’s throat, like he was jealous, and yet, not bitter. He wanted that specialness in something, wanted to be the best at something only he could lay claim to. Even Seokwoo, despite claiming ordinance, was amazing at keeping up with his grades, had a full ride at school, and was still involved in multiple school activities, including the theatre and photography.

So, as he said before, he didn’t consider himself anything amazing. He was good at some things, but he felt like the common phrase, “a jack of all trades, but a master of none,” described himself just a touch too well.

Which was how Taeyang commonly found himself people watching on the bus ride back to his apartment away from the college campus. That was one thing Taeyang did have under his belt, at least— he had his own apartment.

(Of course, he was usually scrounging money up at the end of the month for rent, and he  _ sometimes  _ had to get a few meals from Seokwoo through the month just to make sure he had enough spending money for cheap ramen every week, but that was completely besides the point!)

He had his own place, with his own shower, his own bed, his own toilet and television— he was as close to an adult as a 20 year old could get. Seokwoo himself wasn’t even moved out of his parent’s house yet, so Taeyang thought he deserved  _ some  _ credit.

The bus ride wasn’t all that long— about 20 minutes on a good night, maybe 45 if the traffic was really bad. Taeyang didn’t mind waiting on the bus, and it gave him an excuse to sit and stare at people in the name of being bored.

Sometimes Taeyang found people he knew from school, most of the time he found total strangers. On more than one occasion, he had found blushing teenager girls staring at him and giggling. That happened just as much as Taeyang also found himself roped into a deep, philosophical conversation with an old man who felt his wisdom just had to be shared with this dark eyed, half-asleep college student who clearly wanted to listen with how loud the music from his headphones sounded. Taeyang also found himself being yelled at by a lot of old ladies for sitting too close, or sometimes accidentally staring for too long, but they were grouchy and angry most of the time even when people were nice to them, so Taeyang didn’t pay them much mind.

Taeyang fell into his usual habits. He stuffed his earbuds into his ears, sighing gently as soon as he turned his music up and sat back in his seat on the bus. Thankfully, it was a little later than usual, the bus empty now that the sun had gone down and most people were in the safety of their homes. Not that Taeyang was worried about safety. The bus was usually quiet, and the walk from the stop to his complex was a total of three minutes, so there wasn’t much room for disaster.

It just so happened, on that day, that Taeyang found a particular someone he had never seen before on the bus.

He wasn’t sitting on a bench, but running towards the bus just as it came to a slowing stop. Taeyang didn’t notice him at first, just glanced and went back to rereading the ad above the bus bench over and over, something about a fried chicken sale as his stomach grumbled and he tried fooling his brain into thinking ramen was somehow more appetizing than fried chicken for the fifth time this week.

Taeyang noticed him as he came ambling down the aisle of the bus, blonde hair in a mess, sticking to the sides of his face with sweat as he panted lowly. Taeyang turned his music down on his earbuds, tracing his eyes over the thin figure of the young man, wearing a ratty black t-shirt and black jeans to match, his boots the last thing Taeyang noticed before he brushed past him, quickly mumbling an apology and sitting himself beside one of the old ladies who sat in the back of the bus, a few seats away from his own bench.

It was, that day, Taeyang broke his “no blatant staring” rule, turning around in his seat and peering over the edge of it, to stare at this blonde haired, eyeliner rimmed eyed, out of breath young man, with a curiosity he had never experienced before in his life.

“It’s rude to stare!” The old woman from behind him said, whacking him with her wallet and clicking her tongue as Taeyang apologized, and quickly turned back.

Taeyang sunk back in his seat. Traffic was clear, so he’d be off of the bus in another five minutes.

It was only after Taeyang departed the bus, stepping off and taking a few steps towards his apartment complex, that he realized the young man that brushed past him smelled like a spice and cigarette smoke.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Seokwoo had to cancel their lunch date set for every Thursday after Taeyang’s grueling calculus course, a class he didn’t even want to take, yet let his student advisor rope him into it because “it would look good on his resume!” Honestly, what employer would care? Taeyang figured none of them.

The cancellation was pretty normal. Seokwoo had other friends he wanted to spend time with, sometimes just needed the time for himself, or didn’t have the money to swing a lunch for him and Taeyang both. Taeyang never blamed him, since they were both technically “broke college kids” in almost every sense of the name. Taeyang rummaged around in his wallet, looking for the few spare bills he had left. Some of it had to go to the bus, but the rest, he figured, could go towards a hot lunch from the student caf. He hadn’t bought any food in a while anyways. Soup, or even just a hot sandwich, would be nice.

It had started raining at the beginning of Taeyang’s calculus class, the lull of raindrops and thunder rumbling in the distance enough to nearly send Taeyang into an early nap. Now, he was rushing through the rain with his backpack weighing heavily over his shoulders, and the pitter-patter of rain rushing all around him as he ran through the slick sidewalks, trying to make it to the student caf semi-dry.

Taeyang made it there after getting only half drenched in rain, the top half of his sweatshirt dark gray in comparison to the only damp bottom half of it. He managed to steal away a hot chicken sandwich, and a cup of chicken noodle soup. He snorted with a faint laugh when he realized later he’d be eating chicken flavored ramen, too. At least he was getting protein in his diet, he guessed.

Since calculus was his last class of the day, Taeyang stuffed his sandwich in his bag, carrying the soup in hand as he walked towards the bus stop, where he’d head home and enjoy the warmth and comfort of his apartment. Maybe he’d take a long shower, change into a cozy pair of pajamas, curl up and watch something on Netflix (that Seokwoo paid for).

As Taeyang approached the bus stop, he tugged his phone from his pocket, a message from Seokwoo catching his attention. Typing with one hand was a feat in and of itself, but typing with one hand, with a bowl of soup in the other, while it was _raining?_ _Wow, look at you go, Yoo Taeyang, practically a natural born multitasker—_

“Oof!”

“Shit,” Taeyang began, looking down at his phone, now sitting in a puddle of water, muddy and gritty, and the screen cracked. That was shortly followed by his eyes darting over to his left hand, hot soup spilled over his hand and the styrofoam bowl crushed. “That’s awesome.”

“Oh, fuck,” Taeyang jumped at the sound of the other voice, presumably the other person that was standing in front of him, gaping down at their own shirt soaked in chicken noodle soup and rain. “Oh— oh shit.”

The stranger ducked down, picked up Taeyang’s phone from the puddle and immediately tried to press the home button. The screen flashed through the cracks, followed by a blink, and then went black.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry.”

Taeyang blinked, seemingly processing what had happened much slower than the stranger. Well. At least he still had his food in his backpack? That was a plus. But his phone was broken. The screen cracked, and the damn thing wouldn’t even turn on. Hm. That was less of a plus.

“I know how to take care of this!” Taeyang said suddenly, snatching his phone from the stranger’s hand and stuffing his soaked phone in his pocket. “You just gotta let it sit in a bag of rice for a few hours.”

When Taeyang finally met the gaze of the stranger, he found messy blonde hair, stuck to the sides of his face and his forehead from the rain, near black eyes rimmed with eyeliner, with a ratty red t-shirt and dark jeans.

“Oh, you’re that guy from the bus!” Taeyang said almost immediately, without stopping himself or even filtering what impulsive thing was going to come out of his mouth next.

The stranger furrowed his brows, staring at Taeyang with confusion, a touch of curiosity as he parted his lips and let out, “uh?”

“I mean, you were on the bus once. With me. You got on the bus I was on.”

“Oh,” he said, nodding his head, as if anything Taeyang was saying made sense.

“Did I bump into you?” Taeyang said, gesturing towards the food on the young man’s shirt.

“Er, no, you didn’t. I was running, and I ran into you first. It’s the rain, I couldn’t see anything.” The man paused, a stutter making him rethink his words before he continued, “I’ll pay for your phone. And your food.”

“My phone?” Taeyang made a move to grab it again, but stopped himself and hummed. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It... it broke.”

“Yeah, well, it was on its way out, I guess. I’ll put it in some rice when I get home.” Taeyang pursed his lips. “Actually, would you buy me some rice? I don’t think I have any at home.”

The stranger looked outright horrified by Taeyang’s nonchalance towards the situation, his jaw dropped before he shook his head.

“No?” Taeyang said. “That’s okay. Thanks anyways—”

“No, I mean— Dude, I—” The stranger sighed. “Yeah, sure. I’ll go buy you some rice.”

  
  
  


Taeyang found himself standing in the line of a convenience store, the stranger beside him, antsy as all get out. His fingers were fidgeting at his sides, before he stuffed his hands into his pockets to fish out his wallet when it was time to pay for the rice. He had also picked up a bowl of curry for Taeyang, not too spicy, but something to replace the chicken noodle soup he had gotten all over his shirt earlier.

“Do you need a new shirt?” Taeyang said as they walked out of the store together. “I’ve got some at home. You can just wait outside and I’ll give you one.”

“That’s okay,” the stranger replied. When the two came to a stop at the crosswalk, the rain having stopped a few minutes earlier, he cleared his throat. “My name is Youngkyun.”

“Oh, I didn’t even introduce myself, right? I’m Taeyang. Nice to meet you!”

“I wasn’t.... Er, I was introducing myself so I could give you my phone number.” Youngkyun nearly slapped himself as he sighed deeper and covered his face with his hands. “So you can tell me how much to pay you for your phone. When you get a new one.”

“Don’t even worry about it, honestly.” Taeyang tugged his phone from his pocket, clicking the home button, and was pleasantly surprised when he found it glitching, the font of the home screen blipping on the screen for a moment before it shut off again. “Maybe it’ll turn on by the end of the night!”

“How can you be so casual?” Youngkyun questioned, Taeyang leaving him behind for a split second when he didn’t realize the light had turned, and Taeyang was already walking. “I broke your phone because I wasn’t paying attention. You should be angry at me. You should be  _ seething _ right now.”

“Truth be told, I didn’t pay for this phone.” Taeyang spun the phone in his hands around, noticing a few shards from the screen flaking off and falling to the ground. “My friend Seokwoo gave it to me, and he just upgraded to a new phone like a week ago anyway, so he’ll probably give me his old one. The only reason I wanna soak it in rice is to try getting the USB dock dry enough to where I can back up my stuff, before I transfer it to the new one.”

Youngkyun looked stunned as they made it across the busy intersection together. “O-oh.”

“You thought I was acting crazy, right? Like I was insane for not being pissed about my phone.” Taeyang laughed when Youngkyun nodded almost immediately, and quickly apologized under his breath with the faintest of blushes on his cheeks. “I get that sometimes. But I’m a university student, so, like, money means nothing to me.”

“That’s, uh, an interesting way of looking at it.” Youngkyun nodded again.

“I mean, all I do is leech off of my friends and eat ramen, so it’s gotta be karma or something when I actually have to pay for something of my own like this.”

“I don’t think karma works like that,” Youngkyun said.

“Sure it does.” Taeyang shrugged. “Why are you still following me, anyways?”

Youngkyun looked shocked by Taeyang’s question, and Taeyang could practically hear Seokwoo yelling at him from the back of his mind for his shitty filter from his brain to his mouth.

“I was trying to give you my number, remember? But... I mean... since you don’t want me to pay for it,” Youngkyun paused and nodded his head towards the bus stop, “we go on the same bus, right?”

“Right!” Taeyang said, only a little embarrassed that he didn’t remember that fact. “Right, we go on the same bus. But you get on later than I do, usually.”

“You get off earlier than I do, usually,” Youngkyun replied.

“Well, we can get on at the same time this time.”

That was what they left it at, as they approached the bus stop, sitting down on the bench just barely tucked under a canopy that kept them out of the dripping raindrops from the tree above them. Taeyang almost made to grab his phone to pass the time, but stopped himself short, and instead, grabbed his spare music player in his bag, stuffing his headphones in his pockets.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence on Youngkyun’s part, and Taeyang bobbing his head along to the song playing on his earbuds, he noticed the smell of smoke, cigarette smoke. Taeyang looked over at Youngkyun, who was lighting up a cigarette and taking a long drag of it in the process. Youngkyun only noticed Taeyang staring at him after a few moments, pulling the cigarette out from between his lips and tapping it with his index finger to get rid of the ashes.

“Huh?” Taeyang said when Youngkyun spoke with his headphones still in, unable to hear anything he was saying.

“Do you not like cigarettes?” Youngkyun held it away from Taeyang.

“I’ve never smoked a cigarette before,” Taeyang admitted.

“I try not to smoke around other people,” Youngkyun said quietly. “It’s not a very good habit.”

“What does smoking do for you?” Taeyang said, letting his gaze linger on Youngkyun’s fingers, how they were chewed at the cuticles, around the nails, scabbed over and calloused around the cigarette as smoke spun and twisted around his head before blowing off into the wind. Youngkyun seemed to notice, tried to hide his hands as much as he possibly could.

“Calms me down,” Youngkyun answered, plain and simple. Taeyang made a noncommittal noise. “What does that mean?” Youngkyun pressed.

“I mean, if it helps calm you down, then it can’t be too bad of a habit.” Taeyang turned slightly to Youngkyun. “Right?”

Youngkyun, unable to think of a proper answer, just took another drag of his cigarette, blowing out a cloud of smoke away from Taeyang, before crushing the cigarette under the heel of his boots.

When the bus came, they said their goodbyes, even though Youngkyun was only a few seats away from Taeyang, and Taeyang couldn’t stop himself from looking over his shoulder a couple times to catch the faintest hint of Youngkyun’s blonde hair.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Seokwoo did give his old phone to Taeyang, mentioning something about keeping it from Taeyang until his last phone went to shit because he “knew Taeyang would destroy his last one somehow.” Whatever that was supposed to mean. Taeyang just knew he had a semi-new phone that would last for another two years.

“Why didn’t you make that guy get you a new phone anyways?” Seokwoo said as Taeyang sat cross legged on his bed, transferring his old information from his barely working, broken screened phone, to his laptop. He’d transfer it to the newer one after Seokwoo left. “I mean, seems to me like he was pretty willing to cough it up. You could’ve gotten a new phone.”

“He goes on the same bus as I do,” Taeyang explained, cutting himself off as he started typing on his laptop for a moment.

“Oh, yeah, that totally makes sense.” Seokwoo rolled his eyes.

“I just mean that I’ve bumped into him before. I dunno. Seems kind of rude when it was just an accident.”

Seokwoo hummed, scrolling through his phone for a second more before looking up at Taeyang. “Did you at least make him buy you food?”

“I made him buy me a huge bag of rice.”

“I thought that was for your phone?”

“Well, not  _ all  _ of it, Seokwoo. God, use your head. Look at this big ass bag of rice!” Taeyang scrambled off of his bed, Seokwoo pushing himself off of the floor and following him into his kitchen. “Seriously, you think I’m gonna use this all for my phone?”

“So you’re just gonna survive off of plain white rice and ramen for the rest of your foreseeable college days?”

“Yeah, dude, are you kidding me? I’ll go break a hundred more phones if it means I’m gonna get a bag of rice this size every single time.” Taeyang paused and set the bag down. “Oh, but he did buy me a replacement bowl of curry. So he didn’t just leave me hungry, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Yeah, that was legitimately what I asked.” Seokwoo sat down at the counter, Taeyang leaning forward on it and tapping his chin with his hands. “I guess that’s interesting. Thanks for explaining it to me.”

“Yeah. It was kinda interesting.” Taeyang hummed. “I was staring at him one time before, but I don’t think he ever noticed I was staring at him.”

“You should stop staring at people. It’s weird,” chided Seokwoo.

“How did we become friends?” Taeyang said.

“You were staring at me for three days on the bus ride home, you weirdo,” Seokwoo reaffirmed. “I’ve told you the only reason I even came up to you that day was ‘cause I was gonna beat you up.”

“You wouldn’t hurt a fly, Seokkie,” Taeyang sang, making Seokwoo frown and throw one of the pieces of plastic fruit sitting on the counter at him.

“I  _ could,  _ too,” Seokwoo mumbled, embarrassed.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, I just said you  _ wouldn’t.”  _ Taeyang paused. “Hey, are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

“Eat some of your white rice.” Seokwoo pushed himself out of his seat, already knowing Taeyang was going to beg, judging by the pout forming on his lips, running behind Seokwoo and pleading with wide eyes. “You can’t depend on me for food all the time!”

“I don’t!” Taeyang said, immediately backing down when Seokwoo quirked a brow at him. “Just... sometimes.” Seokwoo put his hands on his hips. “Okay, I depend on you for food all the time, but I promise I’m gonna make it up to you someday! I swear.”

“Uh huh,” Seokwoo said, snatching his phone off of Taeyang’s floor, along with his jacket and tugging his shoes on. “Well? Are you coming or not?”

“I love you, hyung,” Taeyang said. Seokwoo huffed, pushing Taeyang over on his bed and walking out.

“Hurry up, slowpoke.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Taeyang’s Friday class was canceled, which was half a gift, half a curse. On one hand, Taeyang had a free day! And he was pretty excited about that, since free days came so few and far between. He didn’t have to work that night, so he was free to do just about anything.

The issue in it came about when Seokwoo was busy, Taeyang didn’t have a car or enough money to go anywhere or do anything, and now he was sitting on the grass of his college campus quad, tugging out handfuls and sighing when he had nothing better to do.

Seokwoo himself had been working hard on a group project, something about his economics class or something? Taeyang couldn’t even be bothered to remember, honestly, which sounded bad, but he was struggling enough with his own classwork. 

All Taeyang remembered was that Seokwoo’s partner on said project happened to be the same guy he’d had a crush on for the past three months, and the last half of their semester last year, too. 

Taeyang couldn’t count on one hand how many times he’d gotten late night messages from Seokwoo, half asleep reading them through one eye about how  _ “unfairly pretty this guy is, Taeyang, you wouldn’t believe it, he’s so gorgeous, it’s not even logical”. _

It was cute, Taeyang thought, but Seokwoo had stopped doing it lately, probably because he was nervous about sending the message to the wrong person. Taeyang had laughed at the idea of Seokwoo accidentally confessing to his crush because he wasn’t paying attention to who he was texting. It sounded very... Seokwoo-like.

And— well, Taeyang supposed he could head home, but where was the fun in that? It was still early, like, beyond the acceptable time for him to head home and watching Netflix until Seokwoo came in to yell at him.

So Taeyang did the reasonable thing any bored, broke college student would do while at a loss on what to do with their suddenly, typically nonexistent free time:

He went to the movies.

For this, Taeyang scrounged up what little amount of money he had in his wallet, which was just barely enough to cover the cost for his ticket... which the woman in the booth ended up helping him pay for anyways. It was a little embarrassing, when he had to shyly thank her for paying the last little bit of the fee for his ticket, but he gladly took it, along with the free popcorn and soda voucher she slid across the counter with his ticket, and the small smile of pity that came with it. Whatever. Taeyang could deal with pity.

Taeyang didn’t actually know shit about the movie he (partially) paid to see. It was something about kids? Something about family? Some kind of horror movie? He couldn’t really tell, and truthfully, Taeyang found himself more engrossed in the disgusting amount of butter his attendant drowned his popcorn in as he sat in his seat more than he cared about the movie, but it was a nice distraction. Ignoring the totally odd looks people cast his way for going to the movies alone— as if Taeyang ever gave couples sucking face more than two seconds of his time  _ anyways—  _ it was comforting. Taeyang appreciated the day to himself.

And at the end of it, Taeyang walked out of the movie theater, the sun now setting slightly, as he stretched his arms above his head and sighed heavily. 

The bus. Right, he had to catch the bus, unless Seokwoo had struck out with his cute project partner early enough to warrant an escape in the form of giving Taeyang a ride back to his apartment. Both were very viable options.

Taeyang pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing Seokwoo’s number and waiting patiently as he ran his fingers through his hair. After a second, he remembered his hands were still coated in cheap, movie theater popcorn. Awesome. Taeyang turned and faced himself in the window, found his reflection staring back at him with hair sticking up and out. Double awesome.

The phone rang twice, before Seokwoo answered it in an exasperated tone.

“Hey, are you still trying to hit on your project partner?”

“Dude!” Seokwoo shouted, a pause coming from the phone before he spoke hushedly. “I had you on speaker!”

“Oh, well... that was dumb.” Taeyang paused and rubbed the back of his neck. Greasy hands. “Anyway, have you struck out yet? I need a ride back to my apartment, and I figured I could bum one off of you if you were already going that way.”

“We’re still working on the project, Taeyang. Can’t you just take the bus?”

“Yeah, I can. I was just curious,” Taeyang sighed out. “Y’know, all alone... on the bus... after I just went to see a movie by myself because my  _ best friend  _ is so  _ busy.”  _

“That’s not fair!” Seokwoo huffed. “You know I’m busy doing work.”

“Does doing work include texting me about your partner’s very cute butt?” Taeyang sat down on the curb of the movie theater sidewalk. “Is your project about the amount of times you think he’s sooo pretty in a day?”

“I don’t talk about his butt that often, and you’re the one that pointed it out anyways,” Seokwoo grumbled. “Look, if you really need a ride, you’re gonna have to wait a half hour. We’re finishing up some stuff.”

“Hm.”

“A half hour, Taeyang.”

“No, I wasn’t saying that to you,” Taeyang quickly corrected himself, squinting at the distance and moving to stand up again. “I think I found that guy that broke my phone.”

“Ask him for a new phone, you can sell it for cash and you’ll have extra money to buy yourself some food for once.”

“Why wouldn’t I just ask him for  _ money?”  _ Taeyang said pointedly. “I think it is that guy. He looks the same.”

“Are you gonna go bother him?” Seokwoo said. Taeyang let out a hum of confirmation. “Cool. Let me know if you still need a ride. Oh, and be safe. You don’t know that guy well.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Taeyang said, before hanging up the call and stuffing his phone in his pocket again. He crossed the street, mindful of the cars and apologizing when he jumped out in front of one much sooner than anticipated. Still, he made it across safely, and then stopped at the streetlight just a little ways away. 

It  _ was  _ the same guy— Youngkyun, he meant. That was his name, Taeyang remembered thinking about Youngkyun for most of the day of and the day after he met him.

And Taeyang, instead of rushing into it like he usually did, stopped at the streetlight and leaned on it as he looked Youngkyun up and down. 

He was wearing what he usually wore— black, dirty looking jeans that hugged his legs unbelievably tight, and a sweater, unlike the other times Taeyang had run into him; and his familiar black boots, which he shifted feet on, from standing on his left leg, to standing on his right and resting the left on the wall behind him. And he was smoking, which again, was normal. Around his throat was a small black tattoo choker— Taeyang could see it against the paleness of his skin.

With a rush of wind came the scent of spice and smoke, a tug on Taeyang’s hand, beckoning him to move forward.

So he did.

“Youngkyun!” Taeyang said without thinking, rushing forward and hardly giving Youngkyun a second to recognize him, a bumbling, tall college student rushing forward with messy, buttery hair and a disgusting, desperately-needing-a-wash hoodie, stopping right in front of him. 

Youngkyun blinked, his cigarette hanging between his fingers. He stuttered, “Ah... Taeyang?” Taeyang immediately nodded excitedly. “I didn’t even notice you. What... what’s wrong?” Youngkyun picked and chose his words carefully, like he didn’t want to say something wrong and risk running Taeyang off.

“I just got out of the movies,” Taeyang jutted his thumb over in the direction of the theater, “and I think I’m waiting for my friend to pick me up so he can drive me home. I don’t want to take the bus.”

“Why not?” Youngkyun said. Taeyang shrugged.

“Does anyone really enjoy taking the bus?”

Youngkyun gave a pensive hum. “I guess not.”

“What are you doing?” Taeyang said. Youngkyun, in the middle of taking a drag from his cigarette, dropped his arm at his side, sighing out the smoke through his nostrils and smiling lazily when Taeyang let out a noise of awe.

“This bar has a slam poetry night every week, so I come in on my days off.”

“Slam poetry?” Taeyang said.

“Like... poetry, but with feeling.” Youngkyun dropped his cigarette and crushed it.

“Huh,” Taeyang said. “That’s cool.”

Youngkyun nodded his head. “Did you ever get your phone fixed?”

“Oh! No, I didn’t, but Seokwoo— that’s my friend I mentioned last time— he gave me his old phone, so I got this one now.” Taeyang pulled the phone from his pocket, handing it over to Youngkyun, who stared at him with an odd expression on his face before giving him a small smile and turning the phone over in his hands.

“I’m glad you got a replacement quickly, then.”

“Yeah!” Taeyang agreed.

Youngkyun paused. “Did you need something else?”

“Oh. No, not really. I’m just waiting here until my friend picks me up. Or until the bus gets here.”

“The bus on this street doesn’t go by your bus stop.” Youngkyun blushed when he realized the fact that he recognized what stop Taeyang got off at. “You’ve gotta take the B bus. It comes later.”

“How much later?”

Youngkyun hummed, his lips pressed together in a line. “An hour, maybe?”

“Man, I could walk home by the time the bus even gets here,” Taeyang said, sounding tired. Youngkyun pushed himself away from the wall, messing with his hair and pointing at the building behind him.

“There’s a bus stop just a few blocks away. I think the next stop is in ten minutes. It goes by where you have to get off. Close, anyway.” Youngkyun pulled his own phone from his pocket. “I’ll go with you.”

Taeyang let out a noise of surprise, but easily agreed to it, watched as Youngkyun slipped inside of the bar and emerged with a backpack slung over his shoulders a few minutes later.

“We can make it if we walk fast,” was all Youngkyun said, before he started leading the way to the bus stop, Taeyang closely following him, and admiring the tattoos that adorned his neck and shoulders that were just barely peeking out from under his sweater.

“How old are you?” Taeyang blurted out.

Youngkyun looked over his shoulder. “I’m 18.”

“So young!” Taeyang said in awe.

“How old are  _ you?” _

“I’m 20,” Taeyang said.

“You’re not that much older than I am,” Youngkyun said, with a slight pout as he did so. Taeyang wanted to laugh, but he stopped himself in case Youngkyun took it the wrong way.

“If it makes it any better, I thought you were a lot older than you are,” Taeyang paused, “not ‘cause you look old or anything. You just seem kinda mature.”

“It’s probably the clothes,” Youngkyun said.

“Well, and the smoking.” Taeyang blew his hair out of his face when a stray wind messed his hair up. “You have to be 19 to buy cigarettes.”

Youngkyun tensed and tucked his pack of cigarettes further into his back pocket.

“Don’t worry, I don’t care,” Taeyang said, catching up to Youngkyun’s side and smiling brightly at him. Youngkyun stuttered, cheeks tinged with embarrassment at being caught. “I used to steal beer from my dad when I was 15, so it’s cool. But yeah, I thought you were at least 20. Probably the clothes, too, partially.” Taeyang looked Youngkyun up and down again. “It’s a cool style, though.”

“Thanks,” Youngkyun mumbled, looking down at his feet. He looked embarrassed still.

“I mean, it’s a lot cooler than my broke college student look.” Taeyang gestured towards his hoodie. “Seriously, I can’t remember the last time I washed this hoodie.” Taeyang tugged on the bottom of his hoodie, staring down at it. “Actually.... Man, I don’t even think this thing is mine. I think this is Seokwoo’s. There’s popcorn butter  _ all  _ over this thing, I hope he didn’t want it back.”

Youngkyun snorted, throwing his hand up to his face when he laughed and nervously trying to hide it.

“Made you laugh!” Taeyang pointed in triumph.

“Were you trying to make me laugh?” Youngkyun said, as they slowed to a stop, the bus bench taken up by three people. Youngkyun leaned against the street sign next to it, Taeyang stopping with him and grinning.

“I’ve been trying since we met,” Taeyang said, which was only half a lie. Youngkyun smiled to himself. “Hey, I have a question.”

Youngkyun hummed.

“That old lady you sit with on the bus hates everyone. So how’d you get her to like you?”

“Ah, her,” Youngkyun said after squinting his eyes at Taeyang like he had no idea who he was talking about. “She’s just an old lady that needs help around her house. I started helping her around at home. She’s still not terribly fond of me, either, but she likes my help, so she bears with me, and... well, vice-versa.”

“You do that?”

“Sometimes,” Youngkyun replied. “Sometimes she needs help at home, sometimes she needs me to go to the grocery store. She has me run errands.”

“Does she pay you?” Taeyang said.

“Yeah.... Just a little bit, though.” Youngkyun sniffled, suddenly cold as he pulled his arms in closer around himself. “I work at a bakery to make ends meet.”

“What kind of 18 year old has to worry about making ends meet?” Taeyang teased. Youngkyun let out a small laugh at that, after a moment of hesitation.

“Yeah, I guess that was a little dramatic.” Youngkyun paused. “How did you see me with the old lady? I didn’t sit with her the last time we were on the bus together.”

It was Taeyang’s turn to blush now, caught in the act of being a spacey kid with few boundaries and little filter.

“Well, I mean, I just... noticed.” Taeyang waved his hand a few times. Youngkyun smiled, and for the first time, it felt genuine. Taeyang wanted to smile with him, but went with his first reaction. “I’m not a creep, I swear.”

“I don’t think you’re a creep, Taeyang.” Youngkyun gave it a moment to settle. “I think you’re a little weird, but you’re not a stalker.”

“But... how do you  _ know  _ I’m not a stalker?” Taeyang challenged. Youngkyun seemed to be amused at the line of questioning, stifling another laugh and nudging Taeyang with his elbow.

“You’re too open. You talk too much about your life to really be a stalker.”

“Maybe I’m just a bad one!” Taeyang reasoned.

“Oh, that’s true, you could just be really horrible at it,” agreed Youngkyun, which earned him a jab to his side with Taeyang’s elbow. “If you are a stalker, you’re a nice one.”

“Aw, thanks,” Taeyang said, unapologetically genuine. Youngkyun nodded his head with a smile, looking down at his boots, nudging a leaf with the tip of his shoe, while Taeyang twirled the toe of his tennis shoe on the sidewalk. 

Just as Youngkyun parted his lips to say something, lips curved around the beginning of Taeyang’s name leaving his lips, the bus pulled up, hissing to a stop. Taeyang perked up, immediately walking over and taking his place in line to get on, Youngkyun following close by.

Youngkyun kept his silence even as he handed the bus driver the change for the ride, walking through the aisle and finally reaching his usual seat towards the middle, sitting down with a quiet huff and immediately leaning his head against the window beside him. The bus door hissed shut, and after a second, lurched forward, starting towards the familiar route Youngkyun took three days out of the week.

When Youngkyun opened his eyes a few minutes later, he found Taeyang sitting in the seat in front of him, peering over the top of the seat, staring at him. He jumped at first, holding his chest just for a moment, as Taeyang grinned so wide, his eyes shut.

“Is this your way of stalking someone?” Youngkyun teased, his voice soft, only audible over the rumble of the bus, but not to anybody else other than Taeyang. Taeyang leaned over the seat just a touch, sighing and resting his head in his hand.

“You were gonna say something to me,” Taeyang said, “before we got on the bus. What was it?”

Youngkyun squinted at Taeyang, not annoyed, not even irritated, just put off by the fact that Taeyang  _ noticed.  _ How did he  _ notice,  _ Youngkyun thought, when he hadn’t even gotten the beginning syllable of his name out to get his attention? It was then that Youngkyun decided Taeyang was too observant for his own good, paid attention to more things than he let on to be. Taeyang wasn’t what he seemed to be, on the surface.

Youngkyun sighed out, “I was going to thank you.”

“For?”

“Waiting with me at the bus stop.”

“Dude, I should be thanking you. I would’ve waited at that other stop for, like, an hour, or longer, or until my friend decided he wanted to pick me up. And I took you away from your poetry slam thing, right?”

“It was almost over, anyway,” Youngkyun said nonchalantly, although that was a lie in and of itself. It had just started a half hour earlier, but Youngkyun had already stepped out for a cigarette when Taeyang had found him, and it felt wrong to leave Taeyang stranded like that.

“Do you go to those poetry shows often?” Taeyang said. “You said they have them every week, right?”

“Every Friday.”

“Huh. Well, I have classes on Friday, but not that late in the evening.”

Youngkyun shifted in his seat, interest piqued as he looked at Taeyang’s excitable expression. “Do you know what slam poetry is, Taeyang?”

“It’s, like, poetry,” Taeyang snapped his fingers at Youngkyun, “with feeling.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Youngkyun held back a laugh by speaking. “So... you want to start coming around?”

“I mean, I’ve never been to one, but... yeah. Maybe next week?”

“Cool,” Youngkyun said. He hesitated before speaking again, pulling his phone from his pocket and opening his phone app. “If you give me your number, I’ll text you the details and stuff.”

Taeyang didn’t even stop to think, already rattling off his number from memory as Youngkyun entered it, pressed call, and then hung up. After Youngkyun saved Taeyang’s number in his phone, Taeyang grinned and sat back in his seat, comfortable just like that.

“You’ll be there, too, right?” Taeyang said. When Youngkyun quirked a brow, Taeyang explained, “at the poetry thing?”

“I’ll meet you there. Why? Do you not want to go alone?”

Taeyang shrugged, tilting his head from side to side, as if rattling the thoughts in his brain before speaking again.

“I think it’d be a lot more fun with you there with me.”

With that, Taeyang returned to his original seat, plopping down and not giving Youngkyun another look over his shoulder, like he usually did.

Youngkyun didn’t know what came over him, but he couldn’t tell if he was happy or not that Taeyang didn’t look at him twice— happy, because he was blushing something awful, put off by the finality and sureness in Taeyang’s tone; or not, because he really, really wanted to see Taeyang look at him again.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The week felt like it flew by after that, Taeyang excited and antsy once Friday came. Seokwoo took note of it when they were walking to their separate classes, Taeyang towards his calculus class, and Seokwoo towards the student center, where he and his partner worked on their project together, since Seokwoo didn’t have a dorm, and his partner said his roommate was a pain and a half to deal with.

“You’re all fidgety,” Seokwoo said. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I have plans!” Taeyang burst without shame.

“Wow, really? Plans without me?” Seokwoo earned a punch to the arm with that remark, Taeyang mocking him and pouting. He readjusted his backpack strap over his shoulder, turning his face away from Seokwoo.

“I know other people besides you, you know,” Taeyang huffed. Seokwoo grinned, almost laughing.

“So, what plans? And what mystery person are you going with?”

“The guy that broke my phone!” Taeyang exclaimed, before humming and correcting himself. “Well, actually, his name is Youngkyun. I do know his name. And I have his phone number.”

“I’d hope you knew his name if you were going someplace with him,” replied Seokwoo. “Wait, so you actually got this guy to be your friend? After he broke your phone and you made him buy you a bag of rice?”

“I don’t really think we’re friends yet,” Taeyang said, “but yeah, I guess so.”

“You make friends in the weirdest situations,” Seokwoo said. “What happened to just, like— I dunno, bumping into someone and making friends with them? Or being introduced by a mutual friend? Why do you always make friends in the middle of weird shit?”

“Don’t be jealous just ‘cause I’m good at what I do.” Taeyang set his hand on his chest in a faux humble gesture, giggling when Seokwoo huffed, before he squinted and pointed in the distance. “Hey, isn’t that your project partner?”

Taeyang swore he had never seen Seokwoo’s smile drop so quick, attention darting towards the direction Taeyang was pointing in, before his eyes widened and he immediately flushed red.

“Holy shit, you have it bad,” mumbled Taeyang.

“He said he’d wait for me in the student center. Why is he there?” Seokwoo paused. “Oh, fuck— Christ, oh my god, he’s walking over here.”

“Aw, he wanted to meet you halfway!” Taeyang teased.

“I swear to god, if you say anything at all, you will be dead to me, Yoo Taeyang,” Seokwoo threatened. Taeyang lifted two fingers up.

“Scouts honor!”

“It’s three fingers for scouts honor.”

“Three whole fingers, Seokwoo? You’ve got me blushing,” Taeyang teased.

“Oh my god, shut  _ up,” _ Seokwoo hissed as his project partner approached them, coming to a stop and smiling immediately at Seokwoo, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Seokwoo gave a short half smile, trying to calm himself down after the full body flush that spread from his ears to his face, even down his neck. Taeyang had even seen Seokwoo’s shoulders go red from embarrassment.

“Hey, Seokwoo,” his project partner said, before nodding at Taeyang as well. “I saw you guys walking over here. I figured I’d meet you halfway.”

“I thought you’d be in the center already,” Seokwoo managed to say without stuttering.  _ Bravo, Seokwoo, _ Taeyang thought with a grin.

“My roommate needed help practicing his lines, so I didn’t get to leave our dorm ‘till a couple minutes ago.” Seokwoo’s partner stopped, looking at Taeyang again and bowing his head. “I’m Juho.”

“I know,” Taeyang let it slip, Seokwoo shooting him a sharp gaze. “Seokwoo’s been telling me all about you.”

“Oh?” Juho said, but smiled a second later, seemingly shy. “I mean, we have spent basically every day working together on this project.... Good things, though?”

_ “Very _ good things,” Taeyang continued. Seokwoo huffed again, and Taeyang thought if Seokwoo could’ve, he’d have steam coming from his ears from how red his face was. “I’m Taeyang, Seokwoo’s questionable best friend.”

Seokwoo didn’t let Taeyang get another word out. “Don’t you have a calculus class to go fail?”

“Ouch, I’m hurt,” Taeyang said. “But I actually do, so I’ll leave you two to it.” Taeyang waved at Juho. “Nice to meet you finally. Oh, hey, you should ask Seokwoo about the lunches we have on Thursdays and invite yourself to one. It’d be cool to have you around.”

“A-ah, that’d be... nice,” Juho said, and for a moment, Taeyang thought he saw Juho blushing as well. Oh, this was going to be  _ fun,  _ Taeyang thought giddily.

“Bye, now!” Seokwoo shoved Taeyang in the direction of a different building, now standing with Juho and flushing furiously. “Sorry. Taeyang is kind of... direct.”

“He seems nice,” Juho said.

“He’s an ass, you can be honest.”

Juho sputtered, laughing after a moment. “I just met him for the first time!”

“I’ll tell you now that he’s an ass. Anyway,” Seokwoo gestured towards the student center, “wanna go inside?”

“Yeah, it’s cold!” Juho complained, less embarrassed now that it was only Seokwoo in front of him. “I wouldn’t intrude on your lunch thing with Taeyang, anyway.”

“Oh, were you thinking about that?” Seokwoo said. Juho nodded. “I mean, if you really wanted to come, it’s all right. It’s not like some sacred lunch date we have or anything. It’s usually just Taeyang and I being stupid together.”

“Ah, I think I’d feel bad,” Juho admitted.

“Well... if you change your mind, just tell me.” Seokwoo held the door to the student center open for Juho, smiling when Juho thanked him and walked in first, but waited for him inside instead of heading to their usual spot in the student center. “It’d be nice to have you there.”

Juho laughed quietly, now much more conscious of his voice as they were surrounded by other people, strangers that he didn’t know or feel comfortable with. Seokwoo lowered his voice as well, if only out of courtesy for Juho.

“You would think you’d be sick of me already, since we’re partners and all,” Juho commented. Seokwoo laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as they found their table and sat down, Juho setting his laptop down and Seokwoo pulling his supplies from his backpack now sitting on the table.

“Maybe you’re just nice to have around,” Seokwoo dropped his sentence at the end, but still made Juho smile in embarrassment.

Seokwoo was most assuredly going to kick Taeyang’s ass later.

  
  
  


Taeyang walked from the campus to the theater, then standing across the street from the bar, where people poured through the entrance one by one. It didn’t look like it was a big enough place to hold even half the people that were walking in, and yet, they were still heading in, laughing, guffawing with one another, clapping each other on the back. Taeyang actually felt nervous, looking down at his outfit. He had actually tried dressing nicely for once, as compared to his lazy excuse for clothes he usually had on during calculus. His teacher duly noted it when she handed his papers back, even making a, “oh, you ran a brush through your hair?” comment when Taeyang looked up at her while taking notes.

But he still was going to stick out like a sore thumb. Everyone walking in dressed practically like Youngkyun did, and the ones that weren’t dressed like the rest  _ did  _ stick out like sore thumbs. Oh, god. Taeyang didn’t mind attention every now and again, but this was a whole different kind of attention. Oh,  _ god. _

Taeyang’s phone vibrated in his hand, a notification from  _ Youngkyun!  _ on the lock screen as he swiped his finger over the message and opened it.

**Youngkyun!:**   
where are u? i’m walking up now  **(5:20 pm)**

Taeyang let out a sigh of relief at the message, walking across the street after checking both ways, and then waiting at the entrance with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his university hoodie. A group of people standing at the entrance, waiting to be let in, looked at Taeyang, and stifled a quiet laugh when they noticed how absolutely nervous he looked to be standing just a few feet away from them. Christ, where was Youngkyun?

“Hey,” came Youngkyun’s voice from behind Taeyang a few seconds later. Taeyang jumped, turning around so fast, his head was still spinning when he stopped and smiled at Youngkyun. “You actually showed up.”

Taeyang sputtered in disbelief. “Of course I did!”

“I thought you were just being nice when you asked.” Youngkyun pointed towards the line of people, which was moving again. “Wanna head inside?”

“Yeah,” Taeyang breathed out, his hands still stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie, like he was too afraid of the cold winds that would suddenly curl around his fingers and ground him and remind him that you are most  _ definitely going into this strange place with a practical stranger, surrounded by other strangers, oh my god, are you really this dumb, Yoo Taeyang— _

“Here,” Youngkyun tugged a card from his pocket, handing it to Taeyang. “It’s a fake ID.”

“A what?!” Taeyang all but shouted, nearly dropping the damn thing in the sewer grate as Youngkyun hushed him with a gentle laugh, lifting his hand from his side, but instead, a single digit raising up and quieting Taeyang just like that as he stared at the fake ID in his hands like a baggie undisclosed white stuff (not that Taeyang had ever experienced that except for maybe that one time his freshman year, but he hadn’t even  _ done any). _

“A fake ID,” Youngkyun repeated, as if Taeyang hadn’t heard him the first time. 

“t’s just insurance. Y’know, in case the cops show up.”

“Fuck, does that happen a lot?” Taeyang said, wiping his hands on the front of his hoodie after stuffing the fake ID into his wallet.

“Hey, Youngkyun,” another voice came, from the group in front of them, a shorter male standing there with a half grimace on his face, “what kind of lame ass kid did you bring to the bar this time?”

“Ah, Chanhee, he’s actually older than the two of us,” Youngkyun said with a small smile. “How you been? How’s your mother?”

“Is that an innuendo?”

“Hey, now, your other friends are the ones that make the ‘I fucked your mom’ jokes.” Youngkyun gestured vaguely towards them, Chanhee laughing and playfully shoving at Youngkyun’s shoulder.

“She’s surviving, thanks for asking.” Chanhee pointed at Taeyang again. “Who’s this?”

“My name is Taeyang,” he supplied, Youngkyun grinning pleasantly when Taeyang finally answered for himself.

“This is my friend, Kang Chanhee,” Youngkyun patted Chanhee’s chest lightly, “he’s 17 years old.”

“Jesus!” Taeyang shouted. “Are any of you actual adults?”

“How old are you, grandpa?” Chanhee said, before shaking his head. “Actually, I don’t care. Youngkyun, you left early last week. What was up with that?”

“I was... with Taeyang,” Youngkyun admitted shyly, as the line moved up, Chanhee pulling a wallet from his pocket and handing it to the woman at the door, who vaguely glanced at it before waving him in.

“What, is this guy your new little purse pet? Ditch him and get in here already,” said Chanhee as he walked in backwards, Youngkyun pulling his own ID from his sleeve and handing it to the woman. She seemed to spare even less time for his, waving him inside and stopping Taeyang for a moment longer, before also waving him in. Youngkyun waited for Taeyang at the door, walking together inside before Youngkyun stopped Taeyang at the bar with a hand on his elbow.

“Down here,” Youngkyun said, tugging Taeyang to the right and pushing a curtain away from a staircase. As Taeyang led the way into an unfamiliar place, he heard voices getting louder, people trickling in behind him and Youngkyun as well, complaining about the slowpoke holding them all up on the staircase, while Youngkyun quietly urged him down the stairs, finally finding themselves in a sea of people, crowded, and more filling it.

“What is this?” Taeyang said, voice soft, almost too quiet to be heard over the others around them. Still, Youngkyun heard him, pulling Taeyang over to one of the very few vacant tables and taking the open spots. Chanhee squirmed through the crowd a few moments later after them, taking his place on the table and giving Taeyang a once over.

“You look like a puppy that just saw some shiny shit.”

“Excuse Chanhee, he just figured out the magic of curse words a few weeks ago, he’s still adjusting,” Youngkyun teased. Chanhee flipped him off, laughing a second later when Youngkyun opened his backpack and pulled out a few different, small bottles of alcohol. Chanhee went to grab one, Taeyang’s mouth agape.

“If you don’t think real hard, it’s just like water,” Chanhee said, waving a hand in front of Taeyang’s face. “Seriously, Youngkyun, who is this guy?”

“If you’re not comfortable,” Youngkyun began, catching Taeyang’s attention quickly, “I can take you back upstairs.”

Taeyang flushed bright red, felt his own face go red with embarrassment, as he realized that there were two minors sitting in front of him, two fucking  _ kids,  _ sitting there, thinking this was all normal, like sitting underneath a normal bar, in an over decorated basement was completely normal— pulling out mini bar sized bottles of alcohol, and Taeyang was - was sitting there staring at them like they were losing their minds and then some. Wasn’t Taeyang the college student here? Was he not just thinking about how he once received a bag of the Unidentified White Stuffs™ during his freshman year?

“I don’t mind,” Taeyang said.

“Cool.” Youngkyun nodded.

“You know, I was thinking about it,” Taeyang said after a moment of silence, as Chanhee opened one of the bottles and downed it in one go, “why do I need a fake ID if I’m overage? I’m allowed to drink alcohol and stuff. It’s  _ you  _ guys that need it.”

Chanhee burst into laughter. “Oh, man, trust me, dude,” he said, throwing the empty bottle he drank into the garbage just a few feet away, nearly pelting a woman in the head in the process, “when the cops come, the last thing they care about is whether or not you’re overage or legal or whatever. We’re all trespassing on private property down here. The fake ID is just to keep them off our trail.”

Taeyang nodded his head in faux understanding. Chanhee grabbed another bottle, but Youngkyun smacked his hand away and earned a low hiss of disapproval.

“Slow down.”

Chanhee clicked his tongue, pushing himself off of the table and shoving his way through the crowd.

“Should we be worried about him?” Taeyang had to shout over the crowd now, the trickle of people finally slowing down before they heard a door slam upstairs. Youngkyun seemingly relaxed in his seat.

“This is a safe place for him to be. And he always comes back by the end of the night, so don’t worry.”

Taeyang nodded his head, let the conversation die down, because there wasn’t anything in particular he really wanted to say. He took the opportunity to finally take in his surroundings, sitting back in his seat as Youngkyun lit up a cigarette and sucked in the smoke. 

There were  _ so  _ many people around them, Taeyang thought, as he let his eyes glaze over the room, the audience, and only after a second did he realize there was a small stage, a microphone, speakers. Tables scattered across the crowd. Gradually, people started taking their seats, Chanhee returning a little while later and sighing when Youngkyun offered him another bottle of alcohol, shaking his head and pushing it away.

The lights dimmed, Taeyang flinching, and thankful Chanhee couldn’t see him, because he would have made fun of him, and Taeyang wasn’t sure how much more he could be dragged by this young kid before it could start being classified as full on burns from a (technical) child. Taeyang darted his gaze over to Youngkyun, whose features were highlighted by the few lights only pointed at the stage. Taeyang swallowed thickly, his pulse suddenly calming, leveling off.

Youngkyun looked over his shoulder at Taeyang, giving him a quick half-smile, only enough to make him calm down, and... Taeyang could breathe again. Despite the smell of ash and cigarettes, spilled beer beside him as a guy apologized and tried wiping it up with cheap paper towels— he relaxed with the others.

And then a woman walked on the stage, readying herself at the microphone, as the others clapped softly, quieted down.

She started speaking.

  
  
  


It was well past one in the morning by the time they were finished. Multiple smoke breaks later, piss breaks, intermissions where Taeyang thought it was over and instead someone else came back to the stage, pouring their hearts out in the form of tongue twisters too tiring for Taeyang to even think of at the time— it was over. Half stolen moments where Youngkyun crushed a cigarette under the heel of his boot, Chanhee red cheeked and Taeyang just there, just enjoying himself, just smiling at Youngkyun every now and again and reassuring him that yes, he did still very much want to be there with him— it was  _ over. _

One in the morning, and Taeyang was walking home with a half drunk Chanhee, and a cigarette stinking Youngkyun.

“Hyung,” Chanhee said, making Youngkyun hum in acknowledgment as he carried him out over his shoulder. Taeyang had Youngkyun’s backpack over his shoulder, considerably light compared to its ridiculous size. “Gimme a smoke.”

“No,” Youngkyun snapped. Chanhee groaned in the back of his chest. “I said no.”

“You’re a fuckin’ buzzkill,” Chanhee whined. He parted his lips to speak again, but Youngkyun was already ahead of him.

“Taeyang doesn’t smoke either. Don’t ask him.”

“Hyung!” Chanhee protested even louder, more upset.

Youngkyun clicked his tongue. “Why would you ever want to smoke anyway? It’s a disgusting habit. It’ll kill you.” Youngkyun flicked the side of Chanhee’s head. “Didn’t your mom teach you better?”

“Hey, don’t you bring up my mom,” Chanhee said, trying to shove Youngkyun away, but was too drunk to even get a solid foothold by himself.

“Your mom would kick my ass for even having you out here doing this shit with me....” Youngkyun sighed, as he and Chanhee came to a stop at an intersection, Taeyang doing the same. “This is where we part ways.”

“I guess so,” Taeyang said. He loosened Youngkyun’s backpack strap from his shoulder, handing it over as Chanhee pulled himself away long enough to lean against the streetlamp beside them. He pointed at Taeyang.

“Are you coming back next week?” he asked, which was more of a question Taeyang was expecting from Youngkyun. Still, Taeyang nodded. “Awesome. I held back some of the shit I wanted to make fun of you for. I’ll use it next week.”

“Be nice,” Youngkyun chided, but still laughed quietly.

“I’m sure he’s a sweet kid,” Taeyang said as he took a step aside with Youngkyun. Youngkyun hummed, tossing the thought around in his head before shaking it.

“He’s pretty much always like this. Uhm... did you enjoy it?” Youngkyun paused, rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “The poetry?”

“Oh!” Taeyang exclaimed, a touch too loud for one in the morning. “I did. I actually really liked it. It was interesting?” Taeyang tried to keep himself to a few words, because honestly, he had a lot to say. “It really is just— a lot of feeling? A lot all at once. I loved it.”

The smile that graced Youngkyun’s lips was genuine again, and Taeyang felt that familiar stutter of his pulse, a pause in beats as he tried to breathe normally. Youngkyun smiled so wide, the corners of his eyes crinkled.

“I-I’m really glad, then. You’re welcome to come back any time. You can just text me before, and I’ll meet you outside.”

“I will,” Taeyang said. He paused, biting his bottom lip and feeling the cold wind sweep over his skin a second later. Youngkyun wasn’t wearing a jacket, and neither was Chanhee. “Get home quick, okay?”

“God, hurry up, I have to piss like a racehorse,” Chanhee groaned from the background. Youngkyun laughed vaguely, nodding his head.

“Yeah, we will. Uh, you— you get home— fast— quick, I mean.” Youngkyun wanted to slap himself for stuttering so many times, but Taeyang just grinned and let out a hum of agreement, before turning on his heel and starting across the street. He heard Youngkyun talking to Chanhee behind him, the two exchanging few words here and there. 

When Taeyang was ready to turn the corner a block away, he heard Youngkyun let out a shout of surprise, and then Chanhee, throwing up in the garbage bin on the corner of the street.

  
  
  


**Taeyang:** **  
** I’m home!  **(1:45 am)**

**Seokboo o3o:** **  
** holy shit yoo taeyang im going to kill you do you even know what time it is  **(1:53 am)**

**Taeyang:** **  
** Sleep time! Zzz  **(1:57 am)**

  
  
  
  
  
  


Taeyang had made plans to go out the following Friday with Youngkyun, back to the bar, back to the poetry and the odd sense of comfort he had found in sitting in a room with a hundred other cigarette stinking strangers while Chanhee got drunk off of minibar alcohol. Youngkyun had replied to Taeyang’s initial question by mentioning that Chanhee had been grounded for two weeks after having been caught drinking, as he was hungover the following morning. 

Taeyang had to admit he was almost a little disappointed that Chanhee wasn’t going to be there, if only to have someone to tease him for looking so uptight, but that was all right. He really didn’t mind only spending time with Youngkyun. After all, Youngkyun was the whole reason Taeyang was even there in the first place.

But just as Taeyang found Seokwoo the following morning in the student caf to share coffee over half mumbled groans of annoyance for class, Seokwoo dropped a bomb on Taeyang.

“Juho and I need to present our project to at least three people before we’re ready to present to the class. You’re one of them.”

Taeyang nearly spat out his mouthful of coffee, before swallowing it down with a lingering burn of annoyance in the back of his throat. “What? I can’t, I have plans.”

“If your plans were to stay out until three in the fucking morning doing dumb shit with some stranger again, then I don’t want to hear it. You can give it up for this.” Seokwoo scrubbed his hand over his face with a deep sigh. He held up a finger when Taeyang already started complaining, shutting him down a second later. “Taeyang, how many times have I covered your ass when you’ve been too hungover to deliver a paper to your professor?”

“Which professor?” Taeyang challenged. Seokwoo rolled his eyes.

“Pick one. Are you really going to be difficult? It’s not even going to take all that long, just a half hour and maybe fifteen minutes for you to tell us what we need to improve on.” Seokwoo paused and furrowed his brows. “I’m your best friend, man.”

“You can’t use the best friend card!” Taeyang gave a half groan of disappointment, but didn’t argue any more, just nodded his head and swallowed down another gulp of coffee as Seokwoo thanked him. “Your project partner has been totally undressing you with his eyes, by the way,” Taeyang said between sips of his drink, which made Seokwoo spit his own out in surprise, frozen in place. “I know you think I’m kidding, but he’s right there, and he’s been staring at you for like ten minutes now.”

“Fuck, I think—” Seokwoo paused and wiped the dripping coffee from his lips. “I think he’s, like, starting to catch on to me. He was talking to me the other night, and I was just fucking sitting there thinking about how pretty he was, and I missed  _ everything  _ he said,” Seokwoo said. “Oh my god, and then I texted him the other night when you didn’t text me that you were home, because I was worried about you, and he called me at two in the fucking morning asking me if I wanted him to help me  _ look  _ for you, and he sounded so  _ worried—”  _ Seokwoo paused and hid his blushing face behind his hands. “I think I really like him, Taeyang.”

“Jesus Christ, dude, it’s only taken you like eight months to figure that out.” Taeyang flickered his gaze over to Juho, who really was a few tables away, and really was staring at Seokwoo every now and again, like Seokwoo had some amazing secret written on the back of his university sweatshirt. 

“Hey, Juho! Over here!” Taeyang shouted after a moment of contemplation, waving his hands as Juho and Seokwoo both jumped at the sound of his face. 

Seokwoo’s face immediately went beet red, shaking his head so minutely at Taeyang, he thought Seokwoo’s head was gonna shake off. And Juho, pointing to himself, before pushing out of his seat and walking over to their table, albeit hesitantly and carefully, testing the waters out before giving Taeyang a meek wave, and waiting for Seokwoo to look at him over his shoulder.

Instead, Seokwoo stood up out of his seat, smiling at Juho and gesturing towards the table. Juho didn’t even think twice, sitting down beside Seokwoo. He gave Taeyang an appreciative smile and a nod afterwards.

“It seems I’ll be one of your lucky three to witness your project before it hits the big screen,” Taeyang said, kicking Seokwoo under the table to get his attention. “I’m gonna be really mean to Seokwoo, since the presentation is getting in the way of some plans, but I’m sure the work you did is great.”

“You have plans?” Juho said, before nudging Seokwoo and getting his attention. Taeyang nearly cooed at the action alone, Juho gently tugging at Seokwoo’s sleeve, his expression inquisitive. “Seokwoo, we can find someone else. Sanghyuk said he’d be more than happy to, and Sanghyuk’s boyfriend said the same, so we’d just need one other person. What about Jaeyoon?”

“Taeyang owes me,” Seokwoo said, his snapping tone directed towards Taeyang more than it was Juho before he turned to him again and shook his head. Juho looked guilty, pleading with his eyes. “Stop, don’t beg, I’m a weak man,” Seokwoo said weakly.

Taeyang set his chin in the palm of his hand. “Who’s Sanghyuk and Sanghyuk’s boyfriend, by the way?”

“Sanghyuk is my roommate,” Juho explained. “C’mon, Seokwoo, it’s not nice to get in the way of your friend’s plans for a boring project presentation.”

For a moment, the thought seemed to flicker over Seokwoo’s expression, faltering a moment after and almost giving in to Juho’s quiet pleads, barely noticeable, but clearly having an effect on Seokwoo, who was pink cheeked, with his arms crossed in defiance, as if that action somehow steeled him from Juho’s begging.

“No! No! No, Taeyang, you owe me!” Seokwoo huffed out, pointing at Taeyang with an indignant huff. “You really owe me a lot, this is the least you can do to try making it up to me!” Seokwoo hissed the following part under his breath: “And manipulating me isn’t going to work either, but nice try.”

“It was worth a shot,” Taeyang said. “Okay, I guess.”

“Sorry,” was all Juho offered, an apologetic smile on his lips. “We’ll make it quick.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it, man.” Taeyang waved it off. “I’ll just make sure to torture Seokwoo a little bit more than normal.”

Seokwoo let out a loud sigh and leaned forward on his arm, hair spilling forward and covering his eyes.

“Your hair is so shaggy, Seokwoo,” Juho said, sweeping it back with a fluid movement. Seokwoo nodded, lethargic and offering little response. “Didn’t you say you wanted to get it cut?”

“Yeah,” Seokwoo mumbled, letting out a soft hum as Juho tucked his hair behind his ear. “After our presentation, probably.”

“It looks nice when you wear a beanie, though,” Juho tacked on, still brushing the tips of his fingers through Seokwoo’s surprisingly soft hair. It was only when Taeyang cleared his throat that Juho and Seokwoo showed some shame, Seokwoo’s cheeks going pink and Juho embarrassingly jerking his hand away from Seokwoo, shoving it down in his lap and looking anywhere but at Taeyang.

Before Taeyang could say anything to keep the conversation going (or even  _ start _ one, since it had gone dead silent), Juho excused himself, meekly waved goodbye to Seokwoo, who turned and stared at Juho rushing away the entire time.

Taeyang made the  _ whipped!  _ sound as Seokwoo stared at Juho leaving.

“God, shut up.” Seokwoo huffed and turned back in his seat. “You ruin everything.”

“Ask your partner on an official date, and I’ll stop ruining things.”

Seokwoo grimaced. “No.”

“Then get ready for me to make this the most difficult presentation you’ve ever had to present in your life.” Taeyang pushed himself out of his seat and flicked a few stray crumbs at Seokwoo. “Bye, best friend.”

“Bye, asshole.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


At the end of Taeyang’s last class, he sighed and slung his backpack over his shoulder, heading towards the open classroom Seokwoo had managed to reserve for their small presentation. Despite saying it would only be a few people with them, Taeyang had heard from one of his classmates that a group of them were planning on sitting in on it as well, if only to see Seokwoo and Juho working together, as they seemed like the worst partnership out of the entire class. Taeyang had to bite back the bitter comments he almost made about that being attributed to the fact that Seokwoo wanted to jump Juho’s bones at any given moment, but he digressed.

On the way out of his building, Taeyang looked up, found the bus arriving at the corner, slowing to a stop with a quiet wheeze of its engine. Taeyang’s brain told him to run towards the bus and board it so he could just head home without having to sit through the entire presentation, but Taeyang’s heart kicked his brain in the ass and told him Seokwoo was his best friend, so the least he could do is sit through the presentation the way any good friend would.

So Taeyang put one foot in front of the other, sighing and ducking his head down as he stuffed one earbud into his ear, music already playing. 

Just as he went to wet his lips and look back up in front of him, he heard somebody calling his name, a voice he hadn’t expected to hear, and found none other than Youngkyun stepping off of the bus, and Chanhee trailing closely behind him. Taeyang jerked his earbuds out faster than he blinked, walking towards the two familiar figures and slowing to a stop as Youngkyun immediately flushed in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What are you doing here?” Taeyang said first. Chanhee nudged the back of Youngkyun’s knee, made him stumble as he flushed even darker.

“It’s just— I mean, y’know, you cancelled on us, and we were just... kinda.... We wanted to hang out with you, so we thought we’d come meet  _ you  _ someplace you hung out—”

“But,” Taeyang started, causing Youngkyun to bite his lip to stifle himself, “I didn’t cancel on you guys so I could hang out with someone else. I cancelled ‘cause my friend asked me to sit in on a presentation he has to show for class. I just didn’t want to bore you with the details since I figured... well, it’s kind of lame, right?”

“Oh my god.” Chanhee sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hyung, I  _ told  _ you!”

Youngkyun hid his face behind his hands, thoroughly embarrassed at his display. Taeyang laughed, readjusting his grip on his backpack before reaching forward and shaking Youngkyun’s shoulder to get his attention.

“I mean, you’re both already here, right?” Taeyang said, almost with a touch of eagerness in his tone. “So... you can stay for the presentation? It might make it a little more bearable.”

“That’s so lame,” Chanhee commented from behind Youngkyun, who was already agreeing, albeit ashamedly, apples of his cheeks still flushed a scarlet red.

“I’ll treat for burgers afterwards,” Taeyang offered, which changed Chanhee’s tune a beat later. Youngkyun and Chanhee followed Taeyang along the sidewalk, talking hushedly behind him, before Taeyang offered some space on the sidewalk for all three of them to walk side by side. Chanhee tucked himself between Taeyang and Youngkyun.

“Save room for Jesus,” he said, to which Youngkyun pinched his shoulder, and Taeyang erupted into laughter.

“I have to apologize beforehand,” prefaced Taeyang, as they approached the student building, holding the door for Chanhee and Youngkyun. “My best friend is a little... anxious.”

“Aren’t we all,” Chanhee replied nonchalantly.

“I mean, he’s already on edge from this stupid project he’s been working on for months, but he also has this huge, obvious, gushy crush on his project partner, so it’s probably gonna be a disaster.”

“That’s cute,” Youngkyun said under his breath, made Taeyang smile as he led the way into the small classroom area. 

Seokwoo and Juho stood beside the projector together, speaking softly as they opened up a few documents and looked through them. Seokwoo glanced up at Taeyang, briefly acknowledged him, before darting his eyes back down. He had to take a second look to notice Youngkyun and Chanhee following Taeyang closely.

“Who are they?” Seokwoo pressed. Taeyang lifted one hand and patted Youngkyun’s chest.

“This is my friend.”

“And the other one?”

“Wow, I have a name,” Chanhee remarked.

“That’s Chanhee. Oh, and this is Youngkyun. They’re just tagging along for the presentation.”

Seokwoo furrowed his brows at all three of them, ready to start asking questions, when the door swung open. Sanghyuk led the way inside, Youngbin close behind him, and the small group of people that said they’d be attending trickling in behind them. Sanghyuk took a seat beside in front of Taeyang, turning to him with a smile on his face.

“You seen Jaeyoon yet?”

“No, why?” Taeyang said eagerly, as the others were grabbing their seats and settling in. “He was supposed to be here, right?”

“Yeah!” Sanghyuk snorted with laughter, to which Youngbin unceremoniously clicked his tongue and chided him. “God, he tried dying his hair for this musical they’re producing— Taeyang, it’s  _ so  _ fucking bad.”

“How bad?” Chanhee said, suddenly sitting forward.

“Ridiculously fucking bad— I’m Sanghyuk by the way—” Sanghyuk nodded his head at Chanhee and Youngkyun, making Taeyang laugh in amusement, how he never seemed to miss a beat. “—like ‘I-feel-bad-for-Inseong’ bad.”

“Christ,” Taeyang said. “Do you think they’re still gonna show? I wanna see it!”

“God, I hope so.”

“That’s  _ mean,”  _ Youngbin said in a chiding tone once more. Sanghyuk pouted, leaning his head on Youngbin’s shoulder and whining softly.

“Don’t be mad at me for spreading the good word.”

“Nothing you spread is good.”

“I mean, I can think of at least  _ two  _ things I spread that are good—”

“If you say your legs, I will dump you right where you sit.”

“...that’s totally  _ not  _ what I was gonna say.” Sanghyuk sniffed and sat back in his seat.

“Uh-huh,” Youngbin replied.

Chanhee snickered, Youngbin glancing over his shoulder to acknowledge the young boy sitting behind him.

“Are they your friends?” Youngkyun asked once Taeyang had sat back in his seat.

“Hm? Oh, Sanghyuk and Youngbin, you mean? Yeah, kinda. Well, they’re more like... weird uncles.”

“That’s endearing,” Chanhee said.

“Not that they’re creepy— just that they say TMI stuff about each other and they’re super gay in front of everyone.”

“You know, we can hear, like, everything you’re saying,” Sanghyuk said. Youngbin turned in his seat.

“And if anything, Sanghyuk is the weird uncle. I’m pretty cool.”

“Nobody cool actually  _ calls  _ themselves cool,” Chanhee said to Youngbin, to which he seemed to be growing fond of, or at least comfortable with. Youngbin quirked a brow at Chanhee, before jutting his thumb towards him and looking at Taeyang.

“How old is this squirt anyways?”

“I’m seventeen!” Chanhee huffed.

“You sure? You look so much younger.”

“How old are you, grandpa?”

Sanghyuk burst into laughter as Youngbin’s cheeks went red in embarrassment, but couldn’t say anything, as Juho and Seokwoo both caught the attention of the room. Despite the room being spacious, it was almost full, students sitting amongst the chairs and waiting patiently. Before they could start, Taeyang turned to Youngkyun again.

“If you get bored, you can leave. I know this doesn’t compare to the slam poetry thing, so I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad.” Youngkyun hummed and relaxed in his seat, giving Taeyang a soft smile. “And besides, if I leave, you won’t treat me to food.”

“Oh, so  _ that’s  _ your ulterior motive.”

“If you’re offering, of course.”

Taeyang couldn’t help but grin at the undertone of Youngkyun’s voice; how, despite the nervous blush on his face, he was relaxed, couldn’t help but feel comfortable sitting there beside Taeyang, waiting for this presentation on something Taeyang wasn’t even sure he understood.

Chanhee rolled his eyes from beside the both of them, before settling in his seat, and kicking Youngbin’s seat with the toe of his boots before giving Youngbin a faux coquettish smile and covering his mouth with his hand to stifle the laugh that threatened to escape him.

  
  
  


At the end of the presentation, Seokwoo was red faced and embarrassed, thoroughly having made an ass out of himself in front of Juho and the roomful of students, while Juho tried to placate him to the best of his abilities.

That being said, the presentation was thorough, and it was clear they had a pretty clear idea of what their subject was on, so Taeyang didn’t tease them too much for it.

“This is my best friend, Seokwoo,” Taeyang said, as he pulled Youngkyun and Chanhee to the front of the classroom, the others leaving in a crowd. Youngbin and Sanghyuk stayed behind as well, talking to each other while waiting for Seokwoo to calm down. “Seokwoo, this is Youngkyun, and this is Chanhee. They’re the ones I’ve been hanging out with.”

“Ah,” Seokwoo said after a beat, as if processing the words just a touch too late. “Nice to meet you both.” Seokwoo quirked a brow at Youngkyun. “You’re the one that broke Taeyang’s phone, right?”

“Hyung!” Taeyang said.

“It’s not an accusation, I’m just trying to remember how you met him! You don’t exactly make a ton of friends!”

“Wow, way to make me sound like a loser.”

“If it’s any consolation, we already knew you were a loser,” Chanhee added. Taeyang almost snapped back at him, but stopped when he heard Youngkyun laughing, trying to hide his smile behind his hands. Taeyang’s mouth went dry, and he had to clear his throat before turning back to Seokwoo.

“Anyways, I promised them I’d get them some food after this.”

“Oh, you’re going out?” Youngbin said, taking a step forward, standing just beside Chanhee. Sanghyuk did the same, moving to Seokwoo’s side and patting him on the back. “We were talking about getting something to eat before we have to study tonight. I can pay for half,” Youngbin offered.

“Whoa, you really are cool,” Chanhee said.

“Aw, thanks,” Youngbin replied. “Almost makes up for you kicking my chair all night.”

“Chanhee!” Youngkyun chided.

“It’s fine,” Youngbin waved it off, grinning and messing with Chanhee’s hair.

The door to the classroom opened after a moment, Taeyang looking over his shoulder and finding Inseong walking in, his hands stuffed in his pockets, closely followed by Jaeyoon, who had a beanie over his hair, and his hoodie tugged tightly over it, just for extra measure. Inseong gave them an awkward half smile, leading the way in while Jaeyoon trailed behind.

“We watched the presentation from the back,” Inseong said, “through the door. Jaeyoon didn’t want to come in.”

“How bad’s the hair?” Sanghyuk prodded.

“Not nearly as bad as your perm,” Jaeyoon shot back, making Sanghyuk hold his chest in faux offense, despite the grin blooming on his lips.

“We’re getting food after this. You two wanna come?” Youngbin offered. “I’m paying half.”

Inseong glanced at Jaeyoon expectantly, who took a moment to think on it, before nodding in agreement, his hands darting for the beanie on his head and keeping it in place.

“Jeez, it can’t be that bad,” Taeyang said. Jaeyoon blushed.

“It really isn’t that bad,” Inseong supplied. “It’s cute, but he doesn’t like it, so... just let him keep that on.”

“Are you two coming with us?” Sanghyuk directed towards Seokwoo and Juho, who both looked at one another expecting an answer. Juho said something too quiet to be discernible, and Seokwoo replied, making Juho grin before agreeing to go, and Seokwoo not agreeing too far behind.

“So... there’s nine of us,” Taeyang said. “And... we have two cars to split.”

“Inseong has his bike outside, so,” Jaeyoon supplied, “seven to split in two.”

“Drivers figure out who they want in their cars,” Sanghyuk said, before turning to Youngbin, pressing into his side before wrapping his arms around him. “Youngbinnie~”

“You can go in the trunk,” Youngbin teased. “I’ll take you, and... I can fit two more. Comfortably.”

“I’ll go with you,” Chanhee offered.

Taeyang looked at Youngkyun expectantly.

“Well?” Taeyang said. Youngkyun rubbed his arm nervously.

“I mean... I’m going with you, so....”

“You aren’t going to stay with your age-challenged friend?” Sanghyuk said, Chanhee frowning in annoyance.

“It’s only a ten minute drive there, it’s not life or death,” Inseong joked.

“I’ll go with Taeyang,” Youngkyun said, before bumping his fist against Chanhee’s own, Chanhee saying he didn’t mind hanging out with Youngbin and Sanghyuk on the ride there, and following them out to their car after they all decided on where they’d be eating. Inseong and Jaeyoon followed close behind, Inseong leading the way outside. Youngkyun let out a quiet noise of awe.

“Is that yours?” he said, taking a step forward and looking Inseong’s motorcycle up and down in amazement. 

“Yeah, she’s mine.” Inseong set his hand on the handle of the motorcycle, Jaeyoon sitting down and tugging on his helmet over his beanie, giving a petulant huff when Taeyang teased him for it.

“God, she’s beautiful.”

“I’d offer you a ride on her, but Jaeyoon is comfortable already.” Inseong snickered when Jaeyoon pouted and waited for him to sit down and start the bike already.

“That’s okay.” Youngkyun looked over his shoulder to Taeyang. “We should get going anyways.”

“See you guys there,” Inseong said, before pulling on a pair of black gloves, and then straddling his bike. When it started, it purred. Taeyang thought he could see the hair standing on the back of Youngkyun’s neck at the sound of it. Finally, Inseong and Jaeyoon pulled away from the curb, and Seokwoo pulled up in his own car, Juho nestled comfortably in the passenger’s seat.

“Well, your chariot awaits,” Taeyang said, opening the door to the back as Seokwoo apologized for the mess. Youngkyun hardly paid it mind as he crawled into the backseat, Taeyang following behind him and copping a squat in Seokwoo’s car, tugging the seatbelt over his chest after slamming the car door shut.

“Inseong is a lot cooler than the rest of us,” Taeyang said, as Seokwoo pulled out of the parking lot, turning the radio up just a touch while Juho glanced at him for just a split second, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he did so. “With a motorcycle and all.”

“I don’t even have my driver’s license, so this is still pretty cool.”

“Oh, I have you beat there, at least,” Taeyang said, grinning at Youngkyun before setting his hand down at his side. Taeyang turned to his right, opening his phone and scanning through his timeline, checking the updates from the few people from college he followed. Most of his timeline consisted of gamers he met playing Overwatch late at night when he should have been working on homework.

Youngkyun set his hand down a second later, the end of his pinky finger hitting Taeyang’s knuckle on the way down. Youngkyun flinched, jerking his hand back just a touch, before relaxing and looking down at his hand.

Taeyang did the same after looking at Youngkyun’s studious expression, how his pinky finger seemed to jut out just a touch more than all his others, as if studying it, waiting for it to give some unexpected answer to any question he had.

“You okay?” Taeyang said. Youngkyun nodded.

“Yeah. Just looking.”

“Do you have a thing for hands, or....”

“No, I don’t.” Youngkyun couldn’t help but laugh at that. “But thank you for asking.”

“Figured it would be worth a shot,” Taeyang replied, before lifting his hand from his side and staring at his pinky finger. “What were you looking at?”

“Just....” Youngkyun trailed off softly, unsure of what to even say to that. “Nothing.”

Despite wanting more answers to his questions, Taeyang didn’t press on it, given the twist of his gut when Youngkyun looked up at him, their eyes meeting in the dim passing streetlights outside as Seokwoo picked up the speed just a little to keep up with Inseong and Jaeyoon, who were weaving in and out of traffic.

The faintest golden gleam seemed to linger in Youngkyun’s eyes with every glint of light, and Taeyang liked that. He swallowed thick, sitting back in his seat and setting his head back against the seat, taking a deep breath in once he was sure Youngkyun wasn’t looking at him anymore.

“So,” Seokwoo prompted, his eyes flickering from the road to Taeyang, who was already preparing himself for whatever sarcastic comment Seokwoo was ready to shoot at him. After noticing the very faint flush on Taeyang’s face, though, Seokwoo just sighed and turned once they slowed at a stoplight. “How did you like the presentation?”

Taeyang just groaned and fell back against his seat once more.

  
  
  


The greasy food proved to weigh them all down. Seokwoo had a half-asleep Juho on his shoulder halfway through the night, and Inseong and Jaeyoon were speaking softly to one another at their end of the booth, Jaeyoon pouting when Inseong made to tease Jaeyoon for his hair. Youngbin and Sanghyuk seemed to be the only ones semi-conscious enough to pay attention to Chanhee, who was stealing handfuls of Youngbin’s fries and stuffing them in his face.

“You’ll get a stomach ache,” Youngbin chided. “Drink something to wash it down.”

“What are you— my mother?” Chanhee said through a mouthful of food.

“Am I wrong, though?” Youngbin replied just as quickly. Sanghyuk snorted, and, despite his initial resistance, Chanhee set down another handful of fries and instead took a few sips of his soda in front of him.

“I’m gonna take Juho back to the dorms,” Seokwoo said, nudging Juho awake just enough for him to stand up and yawn. “Uh, I can give you two a ride back, too.” Seokwoo gestured towards Youngkyun and Taeyang. Youngkyun immediately moved to wrap up his food, despite the fact that he wasn’t eating and still had a spare burger left in his bag, along with two boxes of fries. Taeyang set his hand on top of it, stopping Youngkyun.

“Uhm, actually,” he started, catching Youngkyun’s attention, “we can... walk.”

“I don’t wanna walk!” Chanhee said from his side of the booth. 

Youngbin laughed. “I’ll take Chanhee home.”

Chanhee grimaced when Sanghyuk cooed and pinched his cheek, threatening to smack his hand away. When Youngbin did the same, Chanhee pouted again, but made no moves to do anything, instead biting into his burger again and slouching in his seat.

“It’s cold, though,” Seokwoo interjected, though his sentence dropped off at the end when he noticed the imploring look Taeyang was giving him. Only after a second did he notice the way Taeyang was urging him to  _ leave already,  _ while Youngkyun waited patiently for them to figure out what it was they were doing. “You sure?”

_ “Yes,”  _ Taeyang said, and Seokwoo nodded a touch later, saying good night to everybody else and leading Juho out to his car, where they pulled away from the curb a second later. Youngkyun gave a quiet laugh a second later, closer to a huff, as he stared out the window along with Taeyang.

“He really does have a crush on his project partner.”

Taeyang grinned almost instantly, turning to Youngkyun and laughing with him. “Right?”

“Did you want to get going soon?” Youngkyun said. Taeyang nodded, but didn’t make any immediate movements either. Youngkyun stuffed his food into the bag he had managed to steal from Jaeyoon, and then stood up a moment later, Taeyang scrambling to his feet and saying good night to the others. Youngkyun made Chanhee promise him to call when he had gotten home.

It was a little chilly outside, something Taeyang wasn’t used to, but Youngkyun so very clearly was, as he tugged on his leather jacket and zipped it up at the bottom just a touch. Taeyang watched as Youngkyun took a cigarette from the pack in his pocket, lighting it a second later and breathing in a puff of smoke. The cloud of smoke trailed behind them as they walked along, Youngkyun not bothering to say much, and Taeyang at a loss as well.

Finally, as they reached just a block away from Youngkyun’s apartment complex, Taeyang managed to clear his throat and look up at Youngkyun long enough to ask a question.

“Why did you... show up tonight?”

The question threw him off as well, unsure of why he was even asking, why he even cared when he was just  _ happy  _ to be with Youngkyun. Still, he didn’t take it back, as Youngkyun flicked his cigarette under his boot and crushed it.

“‘Cause....” Youngkyun trailed off quietly, the crosswalk light changing. He and Taeyang took the first step at the same time, right foot at the same time, at the same pace. Taeyang waited patiently for his answer, as they reached the other side of the road together. Youngkyun stuffed his hands in his pockets after examining his finger again. That was so  _ weird,  _ Taeyang thought, but didn’t comment on it.

“You’re gonna think it’s stupid,” Youngkyun said, almost sounding defeated.

“No, I won’t,” Taeyang replied. When Youngkyun met his gaze, he could feel the promise of his words in his expression alone. “I won’t.”

Youngkyun took in a deep breath, swallowing down the ball in his throat and speaking. “I just felt like something was pulling me there. Like... like I really had to be there for some reason.” Youngkyun shook his head, nervously pinching himself like he would wake up from some dream where he was admitting this all. But Taeyang was still there, and he was still beside him, so it couldn’t have been.

“That’s weird,” Taeyang replied, making Youngkyun blush, “but it’s not stupid.”

“Thanks,” Youngkyun said, though his inflection rose at the end, like he wasn’t quite sure if he should be thankful or not. Still, he smiled at Taeyang when Taeyang nudged him with his elbow, started slowing to a stop at his apartment complex building as Youngkyun jutted a thumb towards it and awkwardly grinned.

“This is my stop.... Er, are you sure you’re gonna be okay? Walking around alone at night like this?”

“Yeah, I will,” Taeyang said. He shrugged a beat later. “I don’t live that far, and even if someone mugs me, they won’t get anything from me. I’m a broke college kid.”

“Don’t jinx yourself like that!” Youngkyun said, slightly alarmed, but only enough to make Taeyang laugh out loud, clearly amused by his demeanor.

Despite the expression on Youngkyun’s face that just very slightly seemed to be begging him to stay, Taeyang had class the following day, and he was sure staying the night there would prove to be counterproductive, as whenever he and Youngkyun seemed to spend time together, they talked far too much for their own good. So Taeyang decided against it, standing at the bottom of the steps to Youngkyun’s apartment building. Youngkyun still didn’t look down at him, despite the fact that he was standing on the step just above him. Taeyang smiled.

“You’re short,” he teased. Youngkyun rolled his eyes, half-heartedly annoyed as he made to shove Taeyang’s shoulder and scoff.

“Go home if you’re gonna tease me about my height.”

“Fine.” Taeyang sighed in resignation.

As Taeyang waved goodbye, turning on his heel and starting down the sidewalk, he readied himself to fall into the white noise of his mind, just thinking about nothing in particular on the way back, he heard Youngkyun’s footsteps, but they weren’t retreating. 

No, it was, after a moment, that Taeyang discerned the steps moving towards him, running closer, before his hand was on his shoulder. 

Taeyang turned in an instant, Youngkyun in front of him, as he looked down at him just slightly. Youngkyun flushed furiously, his face beet red, as he grabbed Taeyang’s hand once more. This time, instead of just staring at his pinky finger, Youngkyun laced their hands together, Youngkyun’s fingers fitting in the spaces of Taeyang’s own hand, before he squeezed, just slightly. Then he looked at their hands once more, brows furrowed, as if expecting some kind of reaction.

Taeyang let Youngkyun squeeze his hand once more before quirking a brow. “Uhm?”

Youngkyun sputtered after a second of deliberation, pulling his hand away like Taeyang’s hand was the hot surface of a stove.

“I just— I had to check something!”

Taeyang waited another moment before speaking. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Did you find what you were checking, or...?”

Youngkyun pouted, his lips pressed together in a fine line before he huffed and stuffed his hand in his pockets.

“I was  _ just  _ checking to see if your hands were clammy.”

“Why?” Taeyang teased just a touch more. “Were you thinking about holding them?”

“I— well— no!” Youngkyun stuttered, making Taeyang laugh at his nerves. “Go home!”

“I was!” Taeyang yelled after Youngkyun, who was already stomping back upstairs to his apartment complex, standing at the door.

“Text me when you get home safe.”

Taeyang grinned from ear to ear, couldn’t help it when he had made Youngkyun look so cute when he was nervous.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They hung out like that a few more times— all nine of them, sitting in a large booth at restaurants, too loud and boisterous for their own good. They couldn’t always do it, considering their schedule didn’t always allow for it. And— well, they did also have other friends besides one another. Youngbin had even brought along another friend of his, which made the group into ten, and they were even louder, tossing food at one another and earning glares from other patrons. 

But they didn’t care. 

Taeyang had never been part of a group like that— where they were able to be as loud and carefree and rude as they wanted, despite the fact that most of them were the complete opposite of that, save for Chanhee and maybe Sanghyuk, and sometimes Jaeyoon when he didn’t get his way.

Youngkyun spent more and more time at the campus, even loitering around Taeyang’s class buildings at the ends of his classes with a cigarette at the tips of his fingers, smiling as soon as Taeyang walked out of the building and looked up at him with the same excitement that was always there when he ran into him.

It was after three months of this occurring, in the dead of winter, that Taeyang first asked Youngkyun why he wasn’t attending school.

After all, Youngkyun was only eighteen years old, not that much younger than Taeyang. If anything, he should have still attended high school, much like Chanhee was. However, Youngkyun blushed in embarrassment at the question, stuffing his face with a school cafeteria croissant while Taeyang took a sip of his iced coffee and waited for Youngkyun to offer an answer.

“I dropped out a little early,” Youngkyun offered quietly, seemingly embarrassed as he looked down at his lap.

“Oh!” Taeyang let out. “Why?”

The question came out more innocent than it did prying, but Taeyang apologized anyways.

“It’s okay,” Youngkyun said, voice quiet. He fell silent, wetting his lips before furrowing his brows. “It’s just that I’m living here alone. My parents live in Busan, but I wanted to study at a better high school, so I left.”

“You mean you live alone?” Taeyang said in awe. “Me, too!”

“Yeah,” Youngkyun paused to itch the side of his cheek in embarrassment, the pink blush on his cheek spreading to the bridge of his nose, “but you graduated, and you got accepted into college. I couldn’t keep up the fees for school, rent, transportation, and supporting myself.... I had to give up something, and... well, y’know.”

“You’re so embarrassed about it,” Taeyang said, leaning in closer. Youngkyun looked even more ashamed than he was before. “Don’t be, Youngkyun-ah.”

It was the first time Taeyang had used such informal language with him, even though they had been talking for quite some time. The sound of it made Youngkyun immediately look up at him, their eyes meeting, and then knocking the breath out of Youngkyun’s chest because Taeyang was so fucking  _ close  _ to him.

“It’s not like I regret it,” Youngkyun clarified. “I don’t. Not even a little bit. But my parents still think I’m studying in school, and the only one who really cared about me after I dropped out was Chanhee. He came over to my house afterwards and kept bugging me to eat stuff. He said my face looked sunken in.” 

Youngkyun gave a quiet laugh. “To be honest, we weren’t even friends when I  _ was  _ in school. I thought it was just because we didn’t get along well— like, we hung out with different people. But it turns out he said he was afraid to approach me, and when he finally worked up the courage to talk to me, I had already dropped out.” Youngkyun looked up at Taeyang, expecting him to be half listening or staring off into space, but Taeyang was still listening to him, still waiting for Youngkyun to talk, so he continued. “He’s been my best friend since.”

“I figured as much,” Taeyang said.

“Anyways, I didn’t mean to bore you with that story. There’s nothing really tragic about it. I just dropped out because I couldn’t completely support myself, and now I just work day to day to make ends meet.”

Taeyang nodded, studying Youngkyun’s expression; how, despite the fact that Taeyang wasn’t judging him, he still appeared tight lipped and ashamed of this fact. He must have still been embarrassed. Taeyang didn’t blame him though. It was practically ingrained in household to household that education was the most important thing for someone to focus on, and if they weren’t smart or didn’t get into a good school, they may as well die. Seriously, that was how ridiculous some people sounded.

“Would you ever go back?” Taeyang said. When Youngkyun didn’t catch on, Taeyang reiterated himself. “To school. Would you ever go back?”

“Oh....” Youngkyun sat on his hands, seemingly cold from holding the milkshake in front of him. Taeyang had told him to get something hot, just because Youngkyun naturally ran colder than most people, but he objected and bought himself a milkshake instead. “I dunno. Maybe.”

“Or you could always just marry someone and stay at home for them while they make money. Like a stay at home husband or something. That’s a thing these days! Sounds awesome.”

Youngkyun seemed to give a half snort at that.

“Is it weird to say I’ve never actually put thought into anything past, like... a couple months into my future?”

Taeyang shook his head without hesitation.

“That’s how we young people have to live. Who has time to plan ten years ahead when we don’t even know where we’re gonna be tomorrow? What we’re doing tomorrow?”

“Aren’t you a pisces?” Youngkyun said. Taeyang squinted at him.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Taeyang picked up a french fry and pointed it at Youngkyun. “Don’t tell me you actually believe in that stuff.”

Youngkyun gave a half-hearted shrug, a smug smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Maybe a little.... Anyway, you’re a pisces. You’ve got that whole dreamy thing going for you. You’ve got goals, but if something happens to get in the way of them for a little, you don’t mind, right?”

“I hate that you can talk about me without me actually telling you this stuff.”

Youngkyun leaned forward and took a bite of the fry that Taeyang was still pointing at him.

“Well, I’m a taurus. I like stability, to put it plainly.”

“Doesn’t  _ everyone  _ like stability?” Taeyang challenged, eating the rest of the half-bitten fry in his fingers.

“I suppose. But I like knowing that things are going the way I want them to be going.” Youngkyun hummed and sat back in his seat. “Even if I don’t like having everything planned out years ahead of time, I do like knowing some things won’t change, even in the next few months.”

Taeyang nodded in feign resignation, not fully understanding how Youngkyun could believe the stars had anything to do with his personality, how he acted around others, how the stars could even play into that at all. Still, Taeyang didn’t challenge him anymore on it, because even if he couldn’t fully comprehend how Youngkyun believed in that stuff, it was cute listening to him talk about it. And maybe Youngkyun was a  _ little  _ right. 

“So,” Taeyang began, his brain quickly panicking and telling him to stop, that he didn’t have to continue speaking— still he did. “Am I in your plans?” Taeyang took a bite of a fry, as if it would somehow calm him down. “In the next few months... am I still a part of it?”

The question seemed to strike Youngkyun like an arrow to the chest, knocking all the air from his lungs. He looked up at Taeyang, eyes flickering between Taeyang’s eyes and then his hands, back up to his eyes, then his lips. Back and forth until he finally took a deep breath in and nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, and still sounded breathless.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The invisible tug happened to be there many times after that, in fact. According to Youngkyun, it happened almost every time he and Taeyang were apart. However, Youngkyun said he resisted it most of the time (“Cause it’s, like, unhealthy for me to want to be around to that much.” “But... we’re not even dating or anything.” “Did I  _ say—”). _

But truthfully, Taeyang adored it, in an odd sort of way. How Youngkyun, despite being embarrassed, admitted to it if Taeyang asked him. How many times they had “accidentally” bumped into each other, despite the fact that Youngkyun  _ definitely  _ knew that Taeyang’s stop was nearby, and Taeyang  _ always  _ expected Youngkyun when he happened to be stumbling towards the slam poetry bar after a long day at school.

Today, however, Taeyang found himself at home, sick with the sniffles. Seokwoo had teased him for it while picking up his missing assignments, saying a few of his professors wouldn’t hand it over to Seokwoo, to which Taeyang replied with a half-hearted “fuck it, honestly”, because if his teacher’s didn’t care, Taeyang didn’t really care either.

Between one hot tea and the next, where Taeyang had to pause his dramas and ignore Seokwoo’s texts about how much he missed hanging around Juho, Taeyang heard quiet shuffles outside of his apartment door. Granted, that was a common thing. After all, Taeyang lived... well, he lived in an apartment complex. Noises came with the territory. But they were constant, almost as if someone were walking back and forth, or maybe just making a lot of noise in front of Taeyang’s apartment door in particular. Either way, Taeyang took it upon himself, after a few seconds of poor deliberation, to grab his baseball bat from beside his door, and then swing the door open without looking through the peephole to see who it was.

Of course, it was only Youngkyun.

Youngkyun, who was pink-cheeked from the cold biting at his skin, a black scarf neatly curled around his neck, over his shoulders in an overwhelming pile of fabric, as he buried himself in it while still speaking to himself. It was only once Taeyang had cleared his throat that Youngkyun’s eyes shot open, his face immediately going red with surprise as he flinched, but stayed in his spot.

“Taeyang!” Youngkyun hid his face in his scarf when he realized just how loud he was being. “I— I didn’t think you were— I wasn’t sure if you were home, and— I wasn’t just standing out here, I swear. This looks so weird, I know it does. Okay, I was just—” 

Youngkyun cut himself off again, hiding his face behind his gloved hands and trying to calm himself down despite the fact that Taeyang was making him very, very nervous. Taeyang burst into a coughing fit a second later, Youngkyun’s eyes opening as he looked at him.

“You’re sick.”

Youngkyun said it like he hadn’t even thought of the idea before.

“Oh my god, that’s why you didn’t come to the slam poetry the other night. That’s why I haven’t seen you on the bus.”

“Well, it’s only been, like, two days,” Taeyang reasoned. “But yeah, I inevitably got sick from the disgusting habits of poor college students,” he joked.

“Chanhee said you probably died.”

“Also a viable option.”

“I mean, I guess I won’t ask you now. Do you need anything? Do you need medicine, or soup, or something?”

“What were you gonna ask first?” Taeyang said, pulling out a wad of tissues from his pocket and sneezing into it a moment after. Youngkyun didn’t even seem to mind it, just waiting until Taeyang was done to start talking.

“I just.... Ah, you’re gonna think it’s stupid.”

“Won’t know until you ask,” Taeyang urged.

Youngkyun paused, moving to undo his scarf and hanging it off his shoulder. His cheeks were red, the tips of his ears the same shade of embarrassed as he licked his lips.

“Uhm.... It’s just that I have these tickets to a movie, but I wasn’t even sure if you wanted to go. Chanhee told me I should’ve asked beforehand, I know it’s stupid,” Youngkyun said the last part to himself like he was chiding himself instead of speaking to Taeyang, but Taeyang didn’t want to interrupt. “It’s okay if you don’t want to go.”

“Depends on the movie,” Taeyang said, even though he and Youngkyun both knew Taeyang would be interested no matter the movie.

“God, you’re gonna make fun of me.” Youngkyun shook his head before taking a breath. “It’s the new Star Wars movie. I know, it’s geeky, okay? And everyone is gonna be there, it’s packed, but I managed to get tickets beforehand. Don’t even have to wait in line at the kiosk to buy them the night of—”

“You’re serious?!” Taeyang said, his throat rasping as he burst into another coughing fit. Youngkyun furrowed his brows in concern. “I love Star Wars! I wanted to go, but Seokwoo thinks the movies are lame.”

“But you’re sick.... I can sell the tickets,” Youngkyun said. Taeyang lifted his hands up, as if defensively protecting the tickets.

“No way! You have to keep those tickets. What time is the showing? Midnight?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Youngkyun shook his head. “Really, I can give them to Chanhee or something, he can get a friend to go with him. Or I can give them to someone at the slam poetry thing. Someone probably wants to go.”

“Uh, yeah,” Taeyang said, as if it was the most obvious thing. “It’s me. I wanna go. With you.”

“But you’re sick.”

“And?” Taeyang said. “You only get a chance to see Star Wars on opening night with your friend maybe once or twice in your lifetime.”

Youngkyun hummed, looking down at his feet before glancing back up at Taeyang. “You sure?”

“Youngkyun, if you give me two minutes to get dressed, I will be changed and out of this apartment before you can blink.”

Youngkyun grinned, a small laugh escaping him, before agreeing to let Taeyang go to get dressed. Despite the way Youngkyun said he didn’t mind staying outside in the hall to wait for Taeyang, Taeyang tugged him inside anyways, hiding behind the screen of his small, cordoned off room to get changed. After all, Taeyang’s apartment was fitting for a bachelor, but not for someone who had a friend waiting in the cramped living room, trying not to look over at Taeyang’s way, out of his own embarrassment.

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay in a movie theater?” Youngkyun said, looking down when Taeyang appeared from behind the screen that separated his bed from the rest of the apartment. Taeyang gave a small laugh as he tugged his shirt over his head, patting it at his waist before telling Youngkyun he was properly dressed. It still took Youngkyun a moment to glance up, before letting a breath he didn’t realize he was holding out.

“You asked me that already, but yes, I’ll be fine.”

Immediately after saying that, Taeyang burst into a coughing fit and effectively wrecked his throat just a bit more than it had been before that.

  
  
  


The walk there was also, coincidentally, a huge mistake on Taeyang’s part. The bus didn’t run as late as he and Youngkyun were out, the two ambling along the sidewalk as Youngkyun tucked himself away underneath his scarf, while Taeyang tried to make do with the measly collar of his jacket, zipping it up to the top of his chest, but still inhaling the freezing air and damaging his throat all the more.

“It’s just a few blocks away,” Youngkyun said, as if reading Taeyang’s ever-impatient mind. Taeyang nodded, gave Youngkyun a grin, because he really did want to be there, by his side, walking with him. But truthfully (and he’d never admit it out loud), Taeyang wouldn’t have minded wherever he was going with Youngkyun, so long as he was with him.

As they slowed to a stop at a crosswalk together, Youngkyun looking positively cozy in the folds of his fluffy black scarf around his throat, Taeyang took a glance at his phone, found a few texts from Seokwoo waiting for him. He tapped on the notifications and waited until Youngkyun tugged on his arm to urge him forward, the messages appearing a second later.

“Oh,” Taeyang said, more surprised than he was put off, “Seokwoo and Juho are gonna be there, too.”

“That’s cool,” Youngkyun said. “Did you want to try finding them?”

Taeyang immediately shook his head.

“I really don’t mind if you do. Seokwoo seemed nice.”

Taeyang shrugged. “Well, yeah, he’s nice. He’s my best friend and all. I just.... I dunno. I wanna spend time with you.”

Youngkyun’s face went beet red, his eyes a stark contrast against the red of his skin.

“You know when you say you’re pulled to me?” Taeyang continued, not giving Youngkyun a moment to gather himself or call Taeyang ridiculous or anything like that. Youngkyun nodded. “I think... sometimes I feel that, too.”

When Youngkyun pressed his lips together, he hummed softly. “Maybe we just have that energy.”

“Do you....” Taeyang lowered his voice when he realized they were approaching the movie theater, a line out the door for people waiting for tickets. Youngkyun pulled his phone from his pocket, swiping through the apps to find his tickets so the poor teenage soul at the door could scan them while the rest of the people in the line groaned in anger at the fact that he and Taeyang could move ahead of the queue.

“Do you remember that time you ran up and held my hand?”

Even though he was the one that brought it up, Taeyang suddenly felt self-conscious, rubbing his arm while Youngkyun gave a quiet hum of confirmation and held up his phone to scan his tickets.

“I do,” Youngkyun said softly a beat later.

“When you held my hand, it felt like... my fingertips were on fire afterwards.” Taeyang clenched his hand as if committing the sensation to memory. “Like my hand went numb after you touched it. Pins and needles.”

Youngkyun’s phone slipped from his hand, fell to the ground with a quiet clatter as he gasped and picked it up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I was just,” Youngkyun shook his head, “surprised.”

Taeyang smiled, even though a bundle of nerves still formed in the pit of his throat.

“It’s weird, right?”

Youngkyun didn’t say anything, just studying Taeyang’s side profile as they walked into the theater. The line for snacks was even longer, and Youngkyun looked like he didn’t feel like waiting, so Taeyang didn’t mind leaving either, ignoring the grumble in his belly.

Youngkyun and Taeyang squeezed between people, ending up in their seats in a half-pile of giggles and anxiety, because Youngkyun wasn’t used to being around this many people without one of them being drunk or stoned, shouting their feelings into a microphone and pretending like the police were never a real threat to them. Taeyang was nervous just because... well, he was Taeyang. When wasn’t he nervous?

The movie started after Taeyang and Youngkyun both settled in their seats, the theater falling silent, save for Taeyang’s muffled coughs and sneezes, sniffles into his jacket. At some point, because he didn’t realize the movie was almost three fucking hours long, he gave up on sniffling the booger back and just wiped them on the back of his jacket sleeve.  _ Way to really set the mood, Taeyang,  _ he thought bitterly.

But Youngkyun wasn’t particularly paying attention to that fact, just enjoying the movie. Or rather, just enjoying being somewhere, with someone like Taeyang. His smile radiated warmth and genuity. 

And it wasn’t until Youngkyun’s gaze moved to Taeyang towards the end of the movie, that Taeyang felt all his words leave him, felt all his fucking breath get punched out of him and knocked back in in the same moment. Oh god, he was so  _ fucked,  _ Taeyang thought, his eyes wide.

“I have tissues,” Youngkyun said, a teasing undertone in his whisper. He pulled out a small pack later, not nearly enough to keep Taeyang quiet for the rest of the movie. But it was better than wiping it on his sleeve. God, what was he, five? “And, y’know, if you run out of tissues, you can just use my scarf.”

Youngkyun gave a few quiet, half hearted giggles at that, between loud noises from the movie. Taeyang almost forgot to laugh, cracking a smile a second later.

Taeyang spent the rest of the movie trying very hard not to look at Youngkyun, biting the inside of his cheek, and stifling his coughing fit— especially the one brought on when Youngkyun laced his fingers with Taeyang’s own near the end credits of the movie.

  
  
  


At the corner of Fifth and Cherry, Youngkyun hopped off of the bus at an irregular stop, one he usually didn’t have to take. However, on this particular day, Chanhee was grounded at home, and couldn’t make it to their usual plans out, including the slam poetry. Youngkyun usually didn’t mind, but Chanhee had been working on a poem, apparently, that he wanted to perform in front of the crowd, but his mother clearly had different plans for her rule breaking son.

Still, that didn’t stop Youngkyun from lighting up a cigarette and starting down the sidewalk, blowing out smoke behind him as he trudged along the sidewalk, and stopped only when he was in front of their home. Tossing it on the sidewalk, he crushed it under the heel of his boot before walking up the steps and knocking. Chanhee’s voice came almost immediately from the living room, his footsteps following before the door swung open. With wide eyes, Chanhee closed it just enough to where his mother wouldn’t see if she happened to walk past.

“Dude!”

“I have to talk to you,” Youngkyun said. Chanhee furrowed his brows.

“You have a phone. Text me!”

“It’s not something I want to text about.”

“Chanhee, who’s at the door?”

Chanhee flinched at the sound of his mother’s voice, only because he knew he was grounded, and if she caught him at the door, he was sure he and Youngkyun would both never hear the end of it.

“It’s just— it’s just a friend, mom!”

“Did it escape your memory that you’re grounded?”

Youngkyun stifled a laugh, held his hand against the door and spoke into the home.

“It’s just me.”

“Ah, is that Youngkyun?”

Chanhee’s mother appeared in the walkway of the living room after a minute, a smile on her face as she held her arms open for him. Chanhee stepped aside, allowed Youngkyun to walk in and hug her. He didn’t squeeze tight, though. Not tight enough to compromise her breathing tube, or hurt her thinning, frail figure. Youngkyun noticed she had lost more weight, but didn’t mention it for obvious reasons.

“How are you doing, Mrs. Kang?”

“I’m not dead yet, so it’s going fantastic,” she replied, using a familiarly snarky tone Chanhee seemed to carry when he was teasing others. “You smell like cigarettes.”

“Ah, yeah.” Youngkyun flushed pink. “It’s a tough habit to break.”

“Don’t wanna end up like me one day, do you?”

Youngkyun hummed. “A cool mom?”

“Nice try, Youngkyun, but cancerous was most certainly what I was aiming for.” After a moment of embarrassment on Youngkyun’s behalf, she pinched his cheek and clicked her tongue. “When I die, I’m going to leave it in my will that you drop that disgusting habit.”

“Mom!” Chanhee said, tone incredulous. She raised her hands in defense, taking a few steps away from Youngkyun, before telling him to help himself to whatever he liked in their home.

“Just don’t forget that Chanhee is grounded, so don’t stay too late.”

“Thank you!” Youngkyun shouted after her. Chanhee’s cheeks were rosy red in embarrassment. Youngkyun decided not to mention it this time around. When his mother spoke so plainly about dying, and about her cancer, it made Chanhee anxious as all get out. The notion of her passing alone was enough to make Chanhee nauseous, but completely ignoring the fact that Chanhee would also then have to move to another city, with his estranged father and recently married into the family stepmother, the idea became less and less favorable with every passing day that went by.

“Did you want something to drink?” Chanhee offered, leading the way into his living room, now sans his mother. Youngkyun shook his head, sitting down on the couch while Chanhee resumed his position on the floor, working on some homework.

“Do you remember that dream I told you I had?” Youngkyun said, after wetting his lips. Chanhee paused, looking up to Youngkyun and tapping his pen against his bottom lip.

“You tell me about a lot. Be more specific.”

“The one with the red string.”

“Ah, yes, your wacko theory about this red thread that ties you to random people you’re supposed to meet and fall in love with.”

“It’s not a theory!” Youngkyun huffed. “It’s an old story, Chanhee. And it’s real! You had a red thread around your finger too when I met you.”

“And yet,” Chanhee flopped down on the couch with a sigh, “I’m not in love with you. You haven’t swept me off of my feet, dearest Youngkyunie.”

“Would you shut up?” Youngkyun said, though his words had absolutely no malice behind them. Just a touch of irritation, though it didn’t even seem to be directed towards Chanhee, but more towards the fact that Youngkyun couldn’t articulate his thoughts well enough. After a moment of teasing, Chanhee waved his hand for Youngkyun to continue. “You know the red thread isn’t just for love. It’s for friends. Close friends!”

“Uh-huh, I looked up some stuff after you mentioned it.” Chanhee hummed. “I’m assuming this means you found another thread, then?”

“That’s... that’s the thing.” Youngkyun rubbed his arm self-consciously, looking down at his raggedy shoes and tapping the tips of them together. He had to sit down on the arm of sofa chair beside him. His eyes met Chanhee’s again a second after. “I... feel it, but I can’t...  _ see _ it.”

Chanhee squinted at Youngkyun. “You know, I already don’t believe in most of this hokey shit you talk about, so this does just about nothing to help your case.”

“I’m serious.” Youngkyun eased himself back in the chair. “It’s... the warmth. It’s there. When I see that person, I feel it in my hands— the tightness of the string on my finger, until we’re standing together.” Youngkyun gave a quiet laugh. “Sometimes the pull is so tight, my finger feels like it’s going numb.”

“Jesus,” said Chanhee.

“It’s different than the pull with you,” explained Youngkyun further, trying to reason it to Chanhee, who still looked at Youngkyun with the expression of pure disbelief he always had, since the first time. “The pull with you is like... like I can wait. I don’t have to be with you all the time. That’s the difference....”

“Between?”

“Between the platonic and the romantic threads.”

“Oh my god,” Chanhee said, as if it suddenly dawned on him alone, without needing Youngkyun to walk him through practically the entire notion. “You— you like someone? You  _ love  _ someone?”

“I can’t,” Youngkyun said.

“What do you mean, ‘I can’t’?” Chanhee repeated Youngkyun’s words with the same dumbfounded tone, mocking him. Youngkyun would normally glare at him until he apologized, but couldn’t bring himself to do it now. “You’re telling me you realized that you love someone, and now you’re just denying it and acting like you  _ can’t?” _

“I can’t, Chanhee,” Youngkyun repeated. “The... the last two threads....”

“You’ve had  _ others?!”  _ Chanhee shouted even louder, triggering his mother to shush him from upstairs. He apologized, and only lowered his voice a touch before continuing. “You’ve had other threads with people?”

Youngkyun nodded.

“And?”

“Well, it doesn’t seem that it’s gone very well, does it, Chanhee?” Youngkyun snapped. “Sorry.”

“I don’t even mind. I’m just.... Wait, if you’ve had other threads, that means you’ve had other loves?”

“Yes.”

A loud groan escaped Chanhee, as he shook his head and scrubbed his hands over his face.

“Could you just— just tell me the whole tragic backstory all at once?” Chanhee sighed. “20 questions is hard, and my mom is gonna be back soon to remind me I’m grounded.”

“There’s no  _ story,”  _ Youngkyun said. “There were others. I ran away from them. I cut the threads and forced them to forget about me before anything could happen.”

“‘Course you did.”

“That’s how I ended up here in the first place. I ran away from Busan, and I can’t... I can’t have it happen here again.”

Chanhee had a snarky response. He always did— he was Chanhee, after all. But he let it sit for a moment, instead allowing Youngkyun to gather his thoughts. It was, a stifled second afterwards, that Chanhee heard Youngkyun sniffling, and then the crackle of a small sob in the back of his throat, as Chanhee immediately darted his gaze up and looked at him.

“Oh fuck, Youngkyun, you can’t start crying.”

“I just—” Youngkyun lifted the backs of his mitten-covered hands to wipe his eyes, the action so childish and endearing, Chanhee almost cooed. “I don’t want to see them anymore, I don’t want to feel them. But I don’t want to hurt.... I don’t want to hurt other people or myself.”

Chanhee scooched over on the couch, let Youngkyun sit down beside him. He awkwardly wrapped his arms around him. Youngkyun appreciated the action, no matter how odd it seemed coming from Kang Chanhee of all people.

“I just want to live a normal life without having to worry about these strings on my hands.” Youngkyun looked down at his fingers, felt the tug on his pinky, the telltale one. He followed a different string, from his index finger, to Chanhee’s own, sitting in his lap. “Do you know... what it’s like to look down at your hand and see strings leading to places you don’t know?”

“Clearly,” Chanhee said. Youngkyun gave a weak laugh.

“Sometimes... the strings cut off without me cutting them.” Youngkyun held back another bitter wave of tears. “I wonder what kind of person I missed— when the strings disappear and slide off my fingers. Who were they? Did they die? Did I just miss my chance...?” Youngkyun’s bottom lip trembled. “Did they find me first and cut it off before I could even meet them?”

“Youngkyunie,” Chanhee said, running his hands down Youngkyun’s back before moving his thumbs in small, soft circles. “You are... too good of a person to do that to.”

“And now,” Youngkyun paused to wipe his eyes again, sitting back from Chanhee and looking down at his leg crossed underneath him, “with the string to Taeyang, it feels like... like everything I’ve worked hard to do here was for nothing.” Youngkyun bit his tongue. “Like I should run away again.”

Chanhee showed no immediate reaction, as if contemplating his next thing to say, but was cut off by Youngkyun a second after.

“You’re not surprised it’s Taeyang.”

“Of course I’m not,” Chanhee said, moreso offended by the fact that Youngkyun thought he  _ would  _ be. “You sat through an entire presentation about god-knows-what the fuck it was about, ogling him right beside you. Hell, when we were eating burgers, you kept smiling at Taeyang like he carried the sun in his eyes, you freaking  _ corny ass.”  _

“I didn’t think it was so obvious.”

Chanhee snorted. “It’s obvious from both sides.”

Youngkyun knew this. A part of him always felt it, in the pit of his belly, in the warm confines of his heart that fluttered whenever he had eye contact with Taeyang. When they first ran into each other— how Taeyang admitted so plainly to staring at him on the bus, and it hit Youngkyun only a little while later that perhaps the things he felt weren’t so one-sided. But he wasn’t so sure anymore if that was something that served to make him more comfortable, or a warning. A sign that he should be running, should leave and let Taeyong find someone else— someone who could truly love him, because Youngkyun wasn’t so sure of himself.

“When you dropped out of school,” Chanhee said, his voice vibrating from his chest, as Youngkyun sniffled, “you dropped out because of someone there, right?”

Youngkyun froze, clenching his fingers in the material of Chanhee’s t-shirt. He smelled like the laundry detergent his mother used and the faintest scent of his deodorant, but he smelled like home.

“Ah, you’re so easy to read,” Chanhee continued. Even though he was calling Youngkyun out, there was an undertone of comfort to his words. “It’s okay. I’m not judging you.” Chanhee sighed, letting out a long breath before taking another one in, as if gathering his thoughts with the intake of air alone. “Would you promise me something?”

Youngkyun pretended not to notice the quiver in Chanhee’s voice, how his hands tightened around his shirt, how he felt just a touch of a tear on his shoulder— opted to act like Chanhee wasn’t just as upset as he was. Youngkyun nodded.

“If you leave again... would you tell me before you left?”

Youngkyun sniffled, buried his face in Chanhee’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to leave, Chanhee.”

Still, no matter how much Youngkyun said it, he could feel the tug of the strings on his hands, minus Chanhee’s own— they called to him, wanted all of him and then none, begged for his attention, only for Youngkyun to cut them off and pretend they didn’t bear importance to him.

“I wouldn’t cut your string,” Youngkyun said, after allowing himself to cry into Chanhee’s shoulder.

“That’s gay,” Chanhee said. Youngkyun burst into laughter, punching Chanhee’s shoulder while still ignoring the tear tracks that made their way down Chanhee’s cheeks, despite the smile on his face.

  
  
  
  
  
  


A few weeks later, Taeyang found himself at the slam poetry bar with Youngkyun at his side, Chanhee sitting on the table, per his usual assigned seating. The bar was quiet, low chatter filling the crowd before they fell silent, the lights dimming, and a single spotlight focusing on the stage. A young girl came out on the stage first, speaking before her poem, earning a few quiet cheers from the crowd.

Truthfully, Taeyang couldn’t focus. The awestruck kid that first watched the slam poetry in amazement had long since disappeared, but not because it lacked the same spark. No, the poems were still beautiful, and the company was still appreciated. Taeyang still attended school, failed his exams, talked to Seokwoo every day— nothing had changed.

Except for Youngkyun.

Youngkyun, who smoked like a freight train any other time, but yet, still didn’t smell like nicotine and ash when Taeyang leaned on his shoulder. That was another thing that had changed: Youngkyun didn’t mind the affection from Taeyang as much as he had before. Taeyang used to tease him for it (“Don’t make it weird, Youngkyun-ah~”), but no longer even made a face when Taeyang leaned on him while sitting beside him. At most, a blush graced the apples of his cheeks. Sometimes Taeyang caught him smiling, but it was usually replaced by his usual expression of indifference.

Youngkyun, who didn’t carry cigarettes in his pockets or a lighter in his wallet anymore— who smiled too softly when Taeyang caught him staring, made his heart leap in his chest and simultaneously damn himself for being so emotionally  _ weak  _ for him.

There was something different about him, and Taeyang could feel it in how he carried himself. The way he spoke, the way he acted. Everything was different, and it didn’t quite feel wrong, but it just barely toed the line of  _ right.  _

Youngkyun— who quietly admitted to Taeyang one night a week back that he was feeling  _ things,  _ and couldn’t quite delve into details on these  _ things,  _ thought Taeyang had an idea of what they were when Youngkyun blushed bright red and apologized for being an inconvenience. Taeyang cut him short by pulling him into his arms and hugging him, even just for a moment, before wishing him a good night, and telling him he’d see him again the next day.

A buzz of familiarity lingered in the air at the end of the poetry, as if Taeyang had experienced something like this before. Well— he had, but the feeling of deja-vu dragged so heavily on the back of his mind, Taeyang pinched himself to see if he was really dreaming or not.

Youngkyun ambled beside Taeyang, his hands swaying at his sides, back and forth, sans a cigarette. That was unusual. Taeyang was used to tasting the secondhand smoke on the back of his tongue and bitterly reminding himself to stop romanticizing smoking when it wasn’t even that attractive  _ anyways. _

If Youngkyun was acting odd to Taeyang, he didn’t make any efforts to mention it at all. Truthfully, he actually seemed to be avoiding it and him more than he ever had before.

“Do you work tomorrow?”

Youngkyun seemed to jump at the question that Taeyang so suddenly blurted out. Taeyang grinned, laughing awkwardly.

“Sorry.”

“Oh. No, it’s okay. Just caught me off guard.” Youngkyun paused and chewed his dry bottom lip. “I don’t work tomorrow.”

“Cool,” Taeyang said, his voice quiet. Youngkyun nodded, felt a ball building in his throat the sight of the way Taeyang’s eyes reflected the streetlights and the faintest, vaguest of stars behind them. Taeyang kicked a few rocks in his path, looked down without saying a word.

“You don’t have class tomorrow, right?”

“Nah, it got cancelled,” Taeyang replied. “Even if I did, I probably wouldn’t go.”

Youngkyun nodded in acknowledgment, a bit unsure of what else to say. Maybe he didn’t need to say anything else at the moment. He wasn’t sure.

But Youngkyun was sure, as they approached his apartment complex, that he wasn’t ready for the usual. The routine. Taeyang saying good night and leaving without looking over his shoulder once, without even asking Youngkyun.... Without a moment of regret. Why did Youngkyun carry all of the regret?

At the steps of his apartment complex, Taeyang said good night, his smile beaming down at Youngkyun. But Youngkyun reached forward, clasped Taeyang’s hand in his own, and squeezed.

Taeyang’s eyes shot open, darting down to their hands together. Youngkyun could feel warmth flooding his fingertips, an alarming notion usually, but could feel the pull of the thread, as if telling him they weren’t close enough, and yet, this was as close as their hands could get. As close as  _ they  _ could get.

“Would you.... Would you stay?” Youngkyun said. “Please.”

Swallowing his hesitation, Taeyang looked back at Youngkyun, let out a quiet, “yeah,” and followed him inside of his apartment complex. The walk up the stairs seemed arduous, and Youngkyun apologized for the fact that the elevator didn’t work, even though it wasn’t his fault it was out of order in the first place.

Youngkyun fumbled with his keys at the door, hands trembling, fingers trying so hard to focus on just fitting the key in the slot and  _ opening it,  _ but couldn’t will himself to calm down long enough for it to happen. Taeyang slid his hand over Youngkyun’s own, helped him open the door before following him inside with a quiet sigh.

It was the first time Taeyang had ever been inside of Youngkyun’s apartment, and yet, he couldn’t shake that feeling of familiarity. The open living room with a bed nestled neatly in the corner, the bathroom door slightly ajar, his dirty clothes strewn across the measly loveseat in the “living room” area— all of it felt so suddenly comfortable and recognized. Taeyang had never been there before.

Tugging his shoes off while leaning against the door, Taeyang watched as Youngkyun hurriedly cleaned up his messy apartment, tossing things out of the way before standing up and sputtering through an apology for the messiness. Taeyang snorted, a grin finding its way onto his lips as he finally finished taking his shoes off.

“Trust me, my place is so much worse.” Taeyang took a step forward, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie, since it was still very much cold outside, and to be honest, Youngkyun’s apartment had a touch of cold to it as well.

“It’s... it’s not usually this bad.” Youngkyun nudged a box on the floor with the toe of his shoe. “I can usually keep it kinda... clean-ish.”

“Really, it’s okay,” Taeyang said, a reassuring smile on the curve of his lips.

After a moment of deliberation (and partial awkward silence), Taeyang hummed and rocked back on the heels of his feet.

“So?”

Youngkyun started at the word. “So...?”

“I mean, you invited me in for a reason, right?” Taeyang looked around the room, trying to nonchalantly get a rundown of the place with the sweep of his eyes. “Did you wanna watch a movie or something?”

Youngkyun stuttered, trying to gather himself.

“S-sure. Did you... did you want tea?”

“Sounds nice,” Taeyang replied calmly. “I’ll look for something to watch?”

Youngkyun nodded, silently heading into his small, cordoned off kitchen area, too small for more than one person. Thankfully, Taeyang didn’t look like he was getting any ideas, and Youngkyun was able to splash cold water on his face in relative peace, before filling his plug-in tea kettle. He sat it on the counter, turned it on, all while Taeyang searched for something to watch in the living room.

When Youngkyun returned to the living room with three boxes of tea for Taeyang to choose from, his heart leapt into his throat the sight of Taeyang on his small couch, nestled in the corner, with the blanket that was normally folded over the back of it, now cradled around his shoulders. Youngkyun cleared his throat after a moment of awe, Taeyang flickering his gaze over to him before smiling warmly.

“Which tea did you want....” Youngkyun offered the boxes without a question attached to the end of his sentence. Taeyang gave them a once over, before quirking his brow at Youngkyun.

“Which one’s your favorite?”

Youngkyun paused, looking down in his hands. “Sleepytime.”

“That’s cute,” Taeyang said. “I’ll take some of that.”

Youngkyun swore he had never ran back to his kitchen so fast in his life.

The kettle boiled a little while after, Youngkyun pouring the hot water in two cheap mugs he and Chanhee had picked out a few months back from a knock-off secondhand store that always had deals on rejects from big stores.

Taeyang sat up when Youngkyun approached the couch with the two hot mugs, taking one in hand and blowing on the surface almost immediately while Youngkyun sat down on the floor in front of the couch.

“It’s cold, isn’t it?” Taeyang said. Youngkyun hummed.

“It’s not that cold. I don’t mind.”

They started the movie after taking a few sips of their tea. It wasn’t anything special or specific that Taeyang wanted to watch. It was just something he had landed on on Youngkyun’s Netflix account, and happened to pick before Youngkyun had come back. Taeyang pressed play, sipping on his tea and letting the mug sit on his lap. Youngkyun had taken to staring at his tea, eyes searching for something in the water, before remembering that he brewed the tea with traditional tea bags, and not just the leaves. Couldn’t read the tea leaves without them. Damn.

Whatever the movie was about, Youngkyun had missed it. Right from the beginning, he wasn’t following along, only half listening, and instead, hyper aware of every sound, every movement from Taeyang, every single half breath and laugh that left him at the movie while Youngkyun was trying so fucking desperately to remind himself to just  _ breathe. _

Either halfway through the movie or just a fourth of the way (Youngkyun couldn’t  _ tell),  _ Taeyang glanced down at Youngkyun, who was trembling on the floor. His shoulders were tensed, body shaking with shivers every few minutes from the cold. With the click of his tongue, Taeyang finished his now lukewarm tea, before sliding off the edge of the couch and sitting beside Youngkyun. Youngkyun’s eyes were wide, staring at Taeyang like he was crazy. He set his tea cup to the side.

“It’s cold,” Taeyang said, but didn’t wait for Youngkyun to object or agree. Instead, he took the blanket from the curve of his shoulders, moved it generously to his side, before pulling Youngkyun into his side and letting the blanket settle around his shoulders. Now with Taeyang’s shared body heat and the blanket, Youngkyun immediately warmed up from head to toe, only the tips of his ears still cold, but even then, were warming up with a reddening blush.

“It’s warmer with the two of us, right?” said Taeyang. “This must be why couples cuddle all the time. Cheaper on the heating bill, I bet.”

“Ah, I’m sure that’s totally the only reason why,” Youngkyun mumbled, laughing softly when Taeyang giggled in response. 

“Y’know, besides the whole romantic part of it.” Taeyang shrugged. “I always wondered why Jaeyoon and Inseong were inseparable, but I bet they’re cozy all the time.”

“Cute,” Youngkyun hummed.

“I know I am,” Taeyang teased, to which Youngkyun pinched his side, now open as they were sitting side by side underneath the same blanket. 

Taeyang was right, Youngkyun vaguely thought, while sitting beside him. It was much warmer under the blanket, but definitely even warmer sitting next to him, Taeyang’s body naturally radiating heat and warmth enough to make Youngkyun comfortable.

“Sit closer,” said Taeyang, just quiet enough to make Youngkyun nod without realizing it. He scooted over, their thighs touching— Youngkyun’s rough jeans completely contrasting against the softness of Taeyang’s grey university sweatpants.

“Look, you’ve got a hole in your pants,” Taeyang said, pointing at the open space on Youngkyun’s thighs. Youngkyun snorted, jabbing at Taeyang’s side again.

“Yeah, I bought them like that.”

“You  _ paid  _ for that?” Taeyang giggled when Youngkyun shoved him, apologizing quickly for not knowing his own strength when Taeyang toppled over on his side. “I see how it is. Using me for my blanket and then kicking me out!”

“It’s my blanket!” Youngkyun replied incredulously. Within a moment, Taeyang was sitting up again, picking up the blanket and curling into Youngkyun’s side again. “Yeah, bet it was cold.”

“Only a little.” Taeyang smiled, glancing down at his hand at his side, before flickering his gaze back up to Youngkyun, who was already looking at him, eyes studying his features before blushing when he had been caught.

Youngkyun had a softness to his face, despite his faux rebellious demeanor— where if his brows were just too furrowed in public, or if a cigarette hung past his lips just the right way, he looked borderline criminal— there was a gentleness in his expression, the curve of his lips. Taeyang noticed it all the time, from the first time he bumped into him, that Youngkyun wasn’t anything like the way he dressed.

“What?” Youngkyun said, voice slow and cautious. Taeyang shook his head.

“Just looking.”

Youngkyun flushed, now thoroughly self-conscious, running his fingers along the side of his face and tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. Taeyang held back a smile at the action. God, Youngkyun was so...  _ so....  _ Taeyang couldn’t even think of a proper word to describe him. Soft? Cute? Adorable sounded a bit demeaning, but Taeyang would have been lying if he didn’t think of it a few times when he was around Youngkyun.

It was the feeling of Youngkyun’s cold hand curving around his shoulder, that Taeyang realized Youngkyun was looking at him, expectantly.

“Can I?” Taeyang said. Youngkyun didn’t need any explanation, just nodded and waited, Taeyang scooching over just slightly and commenting on how awkwardly positioned he was. Youngkyun gave a quiet laugh, nervous in all its tones, before Taeyang pressed his forehead against Youngkyun’s and took a deep breath in. “Are you as nervous as I am?” Taeyang breathed out. Youngkyun nodded again.

“Just do it before you get second thoughts,” Youngkyun said, though there was an undertone of fear in his voice. Despite it, Taeyang shook his head.

“I don’t think I could have any second thoughts about you, Youngkyun.”

Youngkyun let out a nervous, trembling breath, warm against Taeyang’s lips, just before Taeyang leaned in and kissed him, his hand curving around Youngkyun’s cheek and holding him close. Taeyang shivered when Youngkyun pulled away, only to lean in again and kiss him again. Both of their lips were chapped, and if Taeyang thought about it for a touch too long, Youngkyun’s kisses tasted like nicotine, but Taeyang would be damned if one of Youngkyun’s cigarettes got more action from him than Taeyang would.

When Youngkyun pulled away again with a sigh, this time he let Taeyang lean his forehead against his, Youngkyun looking down at his hands.

Taeyang pulled his hand from Youngkyun’s cheek, stopped his thumb from running over his cheekbone, and set it down beside Youngkyun’s own. Youngkyun gave a quiet huff, mixed between a laugh and a sigh, and spread his fingers just slightly. Taeyang took Youngkyun’s hand in his own after Youngkyun asked if he could, the spaces of Youngkyun’s fingers fitting perfectly between Taeyang’s own.

The room smelled faintly of cigarettes, and Taeyang was overheating now from how close he and Youngkyun were under the blankets. Youngkyun squeezed Taeyang’s hand.

“Do you see it?”

Taeyang furrowed his brows. Immediately, his gaze was drawn back down to their hands so comfortably intertwined together. But this time... this time when he looked, he found a small gleam of light, something warm and... and  _ red.  _ One red thread tied around Taeyang’s pinky finger, that lead to Youngkyun’s pinky finger, a knot tied snugly at the base.

“My dream,” Taeyang said, shock interweaved in his voice.

“You had a dream like this?”

Taeyang nodded. “Once. Months ago.... I thought... I thought it was just a dream.”

It took Taeyang a moment to notice the way Youngkyun was trembling, shivering, and it wasn’t from the cold— he was crying, holding back tears.

“Was I in it?” he said. Taeyang’s blood chilled when he heard the desperate, almost lost tone in Youngkyun’s voice. “Was it... was it my thread?”

Taeyang took Youngkyun’s hand in his own once more, squeezing affectionately and holding on tight. Youngkyun couldn’t help the tears that spilled, a few drops finding their way to their fingers laced comfortably together.

“Felt like your hand,” Taeyang said. “Smelled like your room.”

Youngkyun suddenly threw his arms around Taeyang, pulling him into a hug, as he cried into Taeyang’s shoulder. Taeyang didn’t loosen his grip or even try to move, just held onto Youngkyun with a tenderness he didn’t think he was capable of.

“Don’t leave,” Youngkyun pleaded. He barely whispered.

“I won’t,” Taeyang said.

All that night, Youngkyun didn’t step out for a cigarette— didn’t nervously look down at his hands or try to make up excuses to get away from Taeyang, take a break from him. They just laid in bed, Youngkyun resting his head on Taeyang’s chest, looking through teary vision at their hands interlocked, and the slack red thread between their fingers.

“Youngkyun,” Taeyang said, just as Youngkyun was beginning to fall asleep, his grip on Taeyang’s hand going lax and letting him wiggle his fingers just a little. Youngkyun hummed, his eyes closing and crossing as he tried to fight to stay awake. “The string.... Is it bad?”

Youngkyun hesitated before answering, sleep clouding his mind and his sense of speaking. He stuttered, before shaking his head.

“No. It’s good.”

Taeyang seemed satisfied with that, but Youngkyun squeezed his hand again.

“Don’t... don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” Taeyang hummed, even though Youngkyun seemed frustrated.

That night, Youngkyun fell asleep on Taeyang’s chest, their hands still touching, still close, the thread still hanging loosely between their fingers.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“And it’s been a week?”

“Yeah.”

Seokwoo set his burger down in front of him, chewing pensively, while Taeyang’s food remained untouched, as most of his meals had been for the past stressful week. Seokwoo hummed.

“Have you tried calling him?”

“Yes— Seokwoo, I’ve done everything. I mean, I figured a day or two is good, to let him get acclimated and calm again. But I called him, and I texted him, and yesterday I even stopped by and knocked on the door, but he wasn’t home. The only thing I  _ haven’t  _ done is gone to his workplace, and that’s just because I don’t know where he works!”

“I mean....” Seokwoo furrowed his brows. “If this red thread thing is real, can you still see the thread?”

“Yeah,” Taeyang reaffirmed, lifting his hand from his side and running his finger along the thread. With a gentle tug, he wrapped his fingers around it. Bitterly, he wondered if he pulled on it hard enough, if Youngkyun would appear, as he had talked about the pull on the string so many times before.

“I really don’t know what to tell you.” Seokwoo sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “Maybe just try his apartment again. He’ll have to be there eventually, right?”

“I know, but... but what if he’s avoiding me on purpose?” Taeyang looked down at the pile of food in front of him again. He still wasn’t hungry. “He said he didn’t want to hurt me.”

Seokwoo’s expression softened with sympathy, reaching his hand over and taking Taeyang’s in his own, squeezing tightly. Taeyang felt the prickle of tears in his eyes, but willed it away. He wasn’t going to cry. Not right now.

“You’re my best friend, Tae. You’re the most important person to me. Promise me you’re not going to do anything crazy over this.”

“What qualifies as crazy?”

“Anything that isn’t giving it some time.” Seokwoo pulled his hand away. “Just... let him have time. Who knows? Maybe you’ll see him tonight.”

Taeyang nodded, moving his hands off of the table and sitting on them, not wanting to see the thread. He didn’t even want to think about it.

“I hate that you’re so reasonable,” Taeyang said. Seokwoo snorted.

“Trust me, I’m not.” He sighed and set his hand in his chin. “Juho hasn’t talked to me in a long time either. I think I really was just reading into it too much.”

“He had the gushiest eyes for you and everyone knows it.” Taeyang rolled his eyes. “Just ask him out.”

“Jaeyoon said he saw him out on a date with someone else, so... better not.”

Taeyang didn’t miss the softness of his voice, the way Seokwoo’s shoulders seemed to shrink with disappointment. Oh, that hurt. That made Taeyang’s heart ache.

“I’ll beat his ass for you?”

“Better not do that either,” Seokwoo said, but gave a quiet laugh. “We can be lonely saps this weekend.”

“Your place?”

“Of course,” replied Seokwoo, all too eager. “Hang in there until then, okay?”

Taeyang nodded, watched as Seokwoo tossed his own food wrappers in the trash, and then headed off for his next class.

A moment later, Taeyang’s phone buzzed, and he found a message from a contact he had only texted once before.

**chanhee:** **  
** hyung have u talked 2 youngkyun?? he wont answer me ://  **(1:14pm)**

**TY:** **  
** He’s not answering you either? Great. He hasnt messaged me in days  **(1:15pm)**

**chanhee:** **  
** we have 2 talk. r u on campus rn?  **(1:15pm)**

**TY:** **  
** About what? I’m about to head home.  **(1:15pm)**

**chanhee:** **  
** fuck shit ok fine meet me someplace meet me at the poetry slam bar ok  **(1:16pm)**

Despite sending multiple messages in an attempt to draw an answer out of Chanhee, it seemed that the younger was disconnected from his phone again, and Taeyang was left with more questions than he was answers. 

Still, Taeyang stuffed his things into his bag, tossing his extra food in the trash before slinging his backpack over his shoulder and heading outside. 

The bus had long since passed. He wouldn’t have been able to hitch a ride anyways, since he didn’t have any extra change. He was planning on stopping by Youngkyun’s after class anyways, but now.... Now Taeyang had a twisting feeling in the gut of his stomach, warning him, telling him something was wrong. Either the text from Chanhee set it off, or the gentle tugs of the thread at his pinky. Whichever one it was, Taeyang found himself walking down the street, anxiously making his way to the slam poetry bar to meet up with Chanhee.

  
  
  


Chanhee was waiting at the corner of the slam poetry bar, his phone held up to his ear as he tapped his foot impatiently. When the other line apparently didn’t answer, Chanhee hung up with a loud, frustrated groan, running his fingers through his hair.

“Fuck, fuck—” Chanhee jumped when Taeyang called his name out and interrupted him. “Hyung!”

“What’s wrong?”

“It was Youngkyun. He....” Chanhee shook his head and stuffed his phone in his pocket, looking frantic as ever as he lifted his hands in front of him and trembled. “He texted me last night, but I already passed out, so I didn’t see it— and he’s— he’s not answering anything. I think he’s doing something bad.”

“Something bad...?” Taeyang trailed for Chanhee elaborate. “Is he in danger?”

“No, he’d never hurt himself,” Chanhee corrected himself. “I don’t think he’s hurting himself. But I think he’s....” Chanhee gestured vaguely at Taeyang’s hand. “You see that stupid red thing he talks about all the time, right?”

“The red string?”

“Yeah, that. He’s told me about it before, but I just can’t see it.” Chanhee huffed. “He’s had other red threads with other people before, but he cuts them off and runs away before he can get close to people. Apparently you’re the closest he’s ever gotten to having someone see the string.”

“He cuts them off,” repeated Taeyang, as if he couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah. He, er, mentioned something about it the other night a few weeks ago or something. He said he’s had others, but he cuts them off so it doesn’t hurt them. I dunno, he’s always so overdramatic and angsty,” Chanhee said. “Point is, he texted me something about ‘not wanting to hurt someone’, and since then, he hasn’t answered anything. Maybe he’s.... Maybe he’s running away? I don’t know.”

Taeyang furrowed his brows. Where would Youngkyun even run away to? He had no car, didn’t seem like the type to hitchhike, didn’t have other people involved in it, apparently. Just Youngkyun. Just Youngkyun running away.

“He hasn’t cut my string yet.” Taeyang glanced down at his hand. “It’s still there.”

“Does it have GPS or something? ‘Cause that’s the only way we’re gonna be able to find him.” Chanhee sighed. “God. He....” Chanhee eyes went wide with realization. “He’s been working extra lately. Oh my god, he was saving up to run away.”

“The train station?” Taeyang offered. Chanhee nodded.

“It’s gotta be. How the fuck are we gonna get there? Fuck, oh my god, what if we’re too late?”

“We won’t be late,” Taeyang promised, fishing his phone from his pocket and dialing Youngbin, who answered within the second ring.

“Taeyang?”

“Hyung, you have to do me a huge favor.” Taeyang nervously chewed his bottom lip. “A huge one.”

“Consider it done,” Youngbin replied, without even needing to know what it was. Leave it to Youngbin, Taeyang thought, to be so reliable.

  
  
  


Twenty minutes later, Youngbin, Sanghyuk, Chanhee, and Taeyang himself were outside of the train station. Youngbin pulled into a parking space faster than Taeyang could blink, before he and Sanghyuk were opening the doors for Chanhee and Taeyang, letting them slip out.

“Should we follow you guys?” Sanghyuk offered. Taeyang didn’t even have time to answer the question, the tug on his string feeling stronger, more intense with every moment that passed. Chanhee was halfway answering his question when Taeyang started running into the station, his feet moving faster than his brain could process.

“Hyung!” Chanhee shouted after him, before telling Sanghyuk and Youngbin to stay there, following him inside.

The hustle and bustle of people normally would have intimidated Taeyang. While he wasn’t completely shy, he was anxious, didn’t really like being around so many people. Yet now, Taeyang felt as if he couldn’t see them— could only feel the urgency in his heart, in his head, in the tightness of the string that somehow felt like it threatened his circulation.

“He could be anywhere,” Chanhee said. Taeyang balled his hands into fists at his side.

“I know he’s here,” Taeyang replied. “Do you want to split up?”

“I’ll go ask security if they’ve seen him.” Chanhee said, as Taeyang pulled his phone from his pocket. His fingers trembled against the screen, messed up the contact he wanted to call before he finally managed to choose the right one and called Youngkyun.

Every call dropped after the second ring, denied, but Taeyang persisted, walking through crowds of people and finally coming upon the boarding area. The trains still hadn’t started, attendants standing outside and directing people in the right way. A few of them even stopped Taeyang to try and direct him in the right direction, but he brushed past them, found a small group of people boarding the train one by one.

And at the end of the line was Youngkyun, holding a satchel over his shoulder, and a train ticket in his other hand. As Taeyang tapped on Youngkyun’s number again, he heard it ring, twice, before Youngkyun tugged it from his pocket with a deep sigh, and denied it after staring at the screen.

“Youngkyun,” Taeyang said. Youngkyun jumped, his train ticket falling out of his hand along with his phone. His eyes wide, Youngkyun’s jaw dropped just slightly.

“T-Taeyang.”

At the sound of his name, Taeyang’s thread pulled. Youngkyun’s hand twitched from his side, but he stuffed his hand into his pocket after picking up his phone and train ticket. Youngkyun didn’t look away, but didn’t step out of the line either. Taeyang took a step forward, and Youngkyun’s expression fell, defensively taking a step back.

“You can’t,” Youngkyun said. Taeyang furrowed his brows, stepped away again.

“Whatever you’re going through,” Taeyang said, ignoring the odd looks he received from a few of the other people in line, “I want to help you with it.”

“You  _ can’t,”  _ Youngkyun repeated. After a moment of silence, Youngkyun’s eyes went wide again, looking behind Taeyang and finding Chanhee running up behind him. Youngkyun shook his head. “Chanhee, I  _ told  _ you....”

“You said you didn’t want to leave,” Chanhee said. “You said you didn’t want to run again.”

“I don’t want to, but I have to. It’s for Taeyang’s own good, and yours, and everybody else’s. Don’t you understand that?”

“I don’t.” Taeyang stepped forward. Again, Youngkyun stepped back, but this time, Taeyang surged forward step by step, not rushing him, but making sure Youngkyun knew Taeyang wasn’t afraid of him, or anything he thought he could do to him. “Why do you think you’re protecting me this way?”

“I’ll only hurt you,” Youngkyun said, holding his hand up. The string between their hands glowed bright red. For a moment, Chanhee swore he could see it. “This will only hurt.”

“Why won’t you let me decide that for myself?” Taeyang said, lifting his own hand and clasping Youngkyun’s own. Stepping out of line, Youngkyun looked at the train, the people boarding slowly but surely. “You’re not protecting me by running away.”

“Then—” Youngkyun choked on his words when he met Taeyang’s gaze, how unbelievably, irrevocably soft his features were. “Please.”

“Chanhee said something about... cutting the strings.” Taeyang squeezed to indicate his hand. “What does cutting them off do?”

Youngkyun shivered. “You’d forget about me. About the string.”

The finality in Youngkyun’s tone was... grounding. To say the least. Taeyang could feel the heaviness of his words.

“What if I don’t want to forget you?” Taeyang said. Youngkyun swallowed hard. “I don’t want to forget you, Youngkyun. I want to—” Taeyang struggled to find the words, more upset that he couldn’t think of one than he was at Youngkyun. “I want to be with you. I want you to want to be with me, like the other night, and I want to wake up in the morning with you.”

Youngkyun couldn’t help it; he started crying, tears prickling hot at the corners of his eyes, shaking his head in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

“What’s so bad about it?” Taeyang pulled Youngkyun as close as he could, pressing their foreheads together. Youngkyun was shivering, knees threatening to buckle underneath the gravity of the situation on his shoulders. “Is it me? Do you not want it to be me?”

“No.” Youngkyun sobbed, lifting his hand to Taeyang’s face and holding his cheek with a tenderness so fond, Taeyang felt his skin heat up under Youngkyun’s fingertips. “But— but what if you get sick of me? If you don’t want it anymore?” ‘It’ being the string. “What if you can’t see it anymore, or if I can’t see it anymore, one day? I can’t— I can’t bear the idea of it. I don’t want that to happen. Please.”

“Youngkyun,” Taeyang said. Youngkyun quieted himself. “Even if everything we did together... even if you ended up hating me at the end of it all,” Taeyang held Youngkyun’s hands so tight, he swore he could feel his pulse through his fingers, “it’d be a gift to love you at all.”

“You don’t mean that,” Youngkyun mumbled, holding back bitter tears.

“Let me prove it to you,” pleaded Taeyang. 

“I....” Youngkyun took a deep breath in, still felt tears trickling down his cheeks, no matter how much Taeyang swept them away with his thumbs. It was after a moment of silence that Youngkyun realized Taeyang’s eyes were glossed over with tears puddling at the bottom, threatening to spill over. When Taeyang closed his eyes, two drops fell down his cheeks. Youngkyun’s heart ached at the sight. “Does this hurt you as much as it hurts me to run away?”

“I think it hurts more,” admitted Taeyang. “I’m just holding back. I’m hoping you’ll stay.”

Before Youngkyun could speak, he felt Taeyang pull him into a hug, barely able to peer over Taeyang’s shoulder. 

Through bleary eyes, Youngkyun could see Chanhee standing there, wiping his eyes, and two other figures beside him, one pulling him into his side and messing with his hair. And vaguely, Youngkyun’s heart twisted with guilt— because he was going to leave Chanhee, going to ignore the fact that Chanhee’s heart would be broken, and his own would be as well, and Taeyang would have to forget about him in the cruelest way possible.

Youngkyun gripped tightly to the back of Taeyang’s shirt, fisting the material in his hands and sobbing outright again.

“Okay,” he said, Taeyang letting out a soft breath of... relief. Gratitude? Something that couldn’t quite be described with words, and Youngkyun could feel it rush through him as well.

“Thank you,” Taeyang whispered.

Youngkyun nodded, before pulling Taeyang as close as he could, the thread around his pinky going lax with comfort. The pull was no longer there.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Would you grab that box?”

Chanhee let out a loud groan of annoyance from the small futon in Youngkyun’s mostly empty apartment.

“God, do I have to do  _ everything?”  _ Chanhee replied. Youngkyun let out a laugh of amusement, picking up the box himself before carrying it over to Chanhee on the couch and dropping it in his lap. Chanhee let out a loud  _ oof!  _ before finally standing up and taking it in his arms, grumbling softly. Youngkyun picked up his own box from the small coffee table the apartment came with, before heading downstairs with Chanhee in front of him, complaining the whole time.

“I think you’d be happier for me,” Youngkyun said, his voice soft. Chanhee resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Of course I’m happy for you. But I’ve done, like,  _ so  _ much work. I thought you said Seokwoo was coming to help.”

“Seokwoo?” Chanhee flinched at the sound of Seokwoo’s voice. “Ah, so cruel, Chanhee-yah, not even calling me hyung or using formality. Is this how you talk about me all the time?”

“Shut up,” Chanhee said, his cheeks red as he flushed and walked away, storming through the front door of the apartment complex while Seokwoo held it open for him and Youngkyun. Seokwoo grinned at Youngkyun.

“Anyways, Seokwoo is helping to unpack at the apartment.”

“Indeed I am,” Seokwoo said, opening the trunk to his car and letting Chanhee and Youngkyun pack up the last of the boxes. “You sure that’s everything? No going back once you leave the key for your landlord.”

“I’m sure,” Youngkyun said, watching as Seokwoo closed the trunk with finality. “Right. Yeah, I’m sure that was everything.”

“Well,  _ I’m  _ sure that whatever you forget, Taeyang will buy for you thirty times to make up for it.”

“Tsk,” Youngkyun clicked his tongue and pinched the side of Chanhee’s cheek. “Don’t be such a brat.”

Chanhee pouted, swatting Youngkyun’s hand away, but still crawling into the back of Seokwoo’s car, buckling up before stuffing his earbuds in and listening to music for the ride to Taeyang’s, even though it was only twenty minutes away, maybe fifteen if there wasn’t traffic.

Seokwoo started his car with a sigh, looking over at Youngkyun, who seemed tense, but not nervous, at least.

Though it seemed with every minute that passed and every turn they took towards Taeyang’s apartment complex, Youngkyun’s shoulders rose nervously, gradually shrinking down into his seat. Seokwoo reached over, clapped his hand down on Youngkyun’s shoulder, as Youngkyun let out a little noise of surprise and immediately darted his gaze over to Seokwoo. Thankfully, Seokwoo still had his eyes on the road.

“You look nervous.”

“I  _ am  _ nervous.”

Seokwoo laughed. “If it’s any sort of consolation, Taeyang hasn’t shut up about moving in days. He’s a nervous wreck. He’s worried you’ll hate living with him or something.”

Youngkyun let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, as if he was surprised that Taeyang had the same sort of worries. But in a way, it was reassuring. That Taeyang was worried and nervous, and Youngkyun wasn’t the only nervous one out of the two. Of course he wasn’t. Taeyang had made it clear so many times before that Youngkyun wouldn’t be alone.

“And, uh,” Seokwoo paused, trying to find the proper words, because he wasn’t used to talking to Youngkyun as much as he’d like to be (Taeyang promised Seokwoo would get comfortable once he had seen Youngkyun around the apartment once or twice), “good job on... uh, not smoking anymore. That’s a really big thing.”

“Oh, th-thank you,” Youngkyun said, sincerely surprised. He couldn’t help blushing, as they slowed to a stop and pulled up at the apartment complex. Chanhee roused from his music induced coma, kicking the back of Youngkyun’s seat with a devilish grin. Youngkyun shot him a look from the side view mirror.

It seemed as if Taeyang was waiting expectantly for them, immediately shooting out from behind the door, as Youngkyun stepped out of the car and helped Chanhee out from the back with the boxes and packages of things. Taeyang waited patiently, until Youngkyun had everything gathered, before pulling him into his arms and holding him tightly.

“Missed you,” Taeyang said. Youngkyun laughed.

“It’s been one night. It was my last night in my apartment.”

“Well, I know that,” Taeyang said, “but do you know how weird it was sleeping with all your stuff in my room and you not  _ being  _ there?”

“You should say ‘our room’,” Seokwoo corrected, while Chanhee made a fake gagging noise and helped Seokwoo carry the boxes upstairs.

“Are you sure?” Taeyang said, catching Youngkyun off guard, taking him out of his thoughts. “About moving in? Because I really won’t be offended if you don’t want to.”

“If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have moved my things out of my apartment, would I?” Youngkyun teased, pinching Taeyang’s cheek with a quiet hum and shaking his head. “I wanted to.”

“Well—” Taeyang stuttered nervously. “I mean, if you ever  _ do  _ want to move out, I understand, because I know we’re still working on stuff, and trying to figure it out exactly, and the red thread—”

“Don’t worry about the thread,” Youngkyun said, his voice soft.

“I worry about everything,” Taeyang said, sheepish.

“I know.” Youngkyun smiled. “C’mon, let’s take a few boxes upstairs.”

  
  
  


Leave it to Youngkyun and Taeyang to have a more than eventful first night in their shared apartment together.

Taeyang was sitting in the living room, eating a bowl of cheap ramen and watching Seokwoo’s shared Netflix account while slurping a mouthful down. Youngkyun had just walked out of the shower, dressed in sweatpants and a loose t-shirt when the power flickered, and then went out, all at once. The quiet whir of their machines powering down made Youngkyun smiled fondly, Taeyang letting out a groan of embarrassment.

“Of all nights....” he said, thoroughly embarrassed. Still, Youngkyun didn’t let it stop him. Using his phone flashlight, Youngkyun grabbed a handful of blankets from the closet, half of which were his, and the other half that were Taeyang’s.

“Let’s build a blanket fort.”

Taeyang easily agreed, followed Youngkyun’s instructions when he couldn’t quite get it right. After a half hour of sweating and trying to build the fort  _ just  _ right, they finally got it. Taeyang let out a cheer of triumph as he rolled underneath it, and Youngkyun did the same, getting comfortable on the pillows they had set down.

“I forgot to mention it,” Taeyang started, rolling over on his side and looking at Youngkyun, who was still sitting up, “but your hair looks nice black.”

“Thank you,” Youngkyun said. “Would you say that for any hair color I dyed it?”

“Well... maybe. But you really do look nice with black hair!”

“Thank you,” repeated Youngkyun, laughing a bit this time.

Youngkyun eased himself onto his back, lying down beside Taeyang on their crumpled, bunched up blankets and pillows not meant to be on the floor, though neither of them minded or really cared. Taeyang reached over, took Youngkyun’s hand in his own after asking it was okay, and only squeezing after Youngkyun did so.

“Do you still get dreams about the thread?” Youngkyun asked. Taeyang hummed pensively, before shaking his head.

“I only ever had the one.” He furrowed his brows, as if in thought. “Just the one, because it smelled like cigarette smoke, and your hand was really soft, but really warm. And clammy.” Taeyang seemed to repeat this as he squeezed Youngkyun’s hand for effect. “Still clammy, though.”

Youngkyun nodded. “Why do you think that is?”

Taeyang shrugged, before grinning, and Youngkyun cringed apprehensively at the undoubtedly greasy line that was to follow.

“Every day with you is a dream, Youngkyunie~”

“All right, out of the blanket fort,” Youngkyun said, ignoring the blush creeping up his shoulders as he nudged Taeyang away a few times, laughing when Taeyang cuddling him close, not letting go like a squid with his arms around his body and squeezing tight. “The killer Taeyang squid has trapped me.”

“His only weakness? Cuddles.”

Youngkyun giggled, trying to wriggle free enough to cuddle Taeyang back, though Taeyang hardly seemed affected or bothered by the fact that Youngkyun couldn’t quite hug him back.

The thread around Youngkyun’s finger seemed to pulse, and then tug, and Youngkyun’s hand went warm when Taeyang curved his fingers into the spaces between his own, because if there was anything that could help Youngkyun forget about the threads on his fingers, it was Taeyang.

And Youngkyun loved him. So much that the thread didn’t seem to matter, and all that existed was Taeyang, and Youngkyun, and this blanket fort, or wherever they happened to be together at.

This blanket fort would have to do for the time being.

**Author's Note:**

> again, sorry it's so long and the ending is rushed!! but please let me know if u found typos ; ;
> 
> ⋅[tumblr](http://spicy--boyfriend.tumblr.com) || [writing twitter](https://twitter.com/hydrxngeas) || [writing listo](http://listography.com/hydrxngeas) || [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/hydrxngeas)⋅


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